


Inertia Creeps

by Cennis



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: M/M, Mental Institution AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2017-11-06 23:01:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 34
Words: 241,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/424205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cennis/pseuds/Cennis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If everyone but you believes you're mad, who is wrong? Ciel Phantomhive, patient D18, is not mad. Sebastian Michaelis, new orderly at St. Victoria's Asylum, agrees. Eventual light Sebastian x Ciel, AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

۞

 

 

**Chapter One**

 

 

۞

 

 

Dust billowed in the scorching air, the sun raining down mercilessly upon the packed dig site. The archaeologists sped around from section to section of the small land, the excitement positively tangible. Every person on the site was grinning from ear to ear as discovery after discovery was unearthed, and each of their pay-cheques got that little bit fatter.

All except for one.

Sebastian Michaelis was bored.

Sebastian Michaelis, the man who was single-handedly unearthing each of the awe-inspiring discoveries, was bored.

Sebastian Michaelis, who may very well have become a millionaire over the last three weeks, was so mind-numbingly bored that the second his watch alarm went off signalling the end of his shift, he cast aside his brushes and left the dig site without a single look back.

He'd been so excited, at first. Archaeology, something he'd never tried his hand at before, something new, something interesting... for the first five minutes. Digging all day under the hot desert sun, being choked with dust and debris, all over some poxy little bones that belonged to some ancient three-legged rat that obviously hadn't been able to run fast enough.

As you may have guessed, for Sebastian Michaelis, the novelty wore off fast.

That was true for any job the man had ever had, however.

His first job, fresh from high school and rearing to go, had been a simple shop clerk role. A nine to five kind of thing. Getting tired of that was perfectly reasonable, especially for a man of many talents such as him. He found out early in life that he could get pretty much any job he wanted as soon as his application was seen. Unfortunately, every job he wanted tended to get tedious awfully fast. Builder, plumber, blacksmith, lion tamer, waiter, candlestick maker, _nothing_ could keep him interested, and as soon as he felt even a smidgen of boredom, his two weeks notice was handed in. Usually met with sobbing and begs of not leaving, but handed in none-the-less.

Sebastian fancied he'd discovered his problem. Every job he was going for was too flashy, too obvious. He hated flashy, he hated obvious. So, desperation seeping in, Sebastian went to the most level-headed person he knew.

Agni.

Agni and he went way back. They'd met in high school, become fast friends and even went to college together, sharing a dorm room. Then Agni had gotten some obscure job and disappeared off the face of the planet. Luckily, he still sent annual Christmas cards to Sebastian, rather cute considering he didn't even celebrate the holiday, and had given an address.

It had only taken a week to hear back from St. Victoria's Hospital, though that didn't surprise Sebastian, and within two days he'd packed up his life from the small Soho apartment and was on a plane to England.

“Mr. Sebastian Michaelis?”

Stepping out of the airport, Sebastian looked for the source of the voice, and met the eyes of a tall, tan woman waving him over.

“That's me.” He gave his usual charming smile, amused but not surprised as pink flooded her cheeks. She offered her hand.

“My name is Hannah Anafeloz, I'm a nurse at St. Victoria's. I've come to pick you up,” she stated meekly, as though reciting a well-practised line, eyes looking everywhere but at his. Sebastian shook her hand, holding on to it for longer than necessary if only to see her squirm, before she led him towards her car.

The ride from central London to whatever obscure location the hospital was at was more exhausting than the plane ride. Endless fields of green and sheep darted by the window for three hours straight, like the animation budget had run out, and Hannah was apparently incapable of driving a car and conversing at the same time, two mangled fences and a missing wing-mirror evidence to that. This job wasn't shaping up to being a boredom-killer so far, though that may have just been England's influence. He'd always found the country rather lacking in excitement.

He must have dozed off at some point, one minute the sun barely risen and the next it was high in the sky, noon.

“We're here, Mr. Michaelis,” Hannah said, climbing out of the car. Blearily rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Sebastian got out of the car too, almost treading on a spectacularly small man under his feet. He apologised, catching himself before he stumbled, but the little man just chuckled, grasping Sebastian's hand tightly.

“Welcome to St. Victoria's, Mr. Michaelis. I am Tanaka, one of the Chairmen of the Institute.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Tanaka. Thank you for taking me on so quickly. I won't let you down,” the usual speech, Sebastian almost struggling to actually make it sound sincere. Tanaka's grip on his hand tightened almost painfully.

“Letting me down will get you killed, I'm afraid, so make sure you don't,” he chortled before tottering towards the big oak doors. Sebastian wasn't sure whether to laugh or not. Was that a joke?

“I apologise over the mysteriousness of the situation, Mr. Michaelis. Standard procedure, I'm sure you understand. You will be living in this building, an old dormitory, with the other members of staff. I'll show you to your lodgings first, then a tour of the place seems fitting, hmm?”

It was a question, but Sebastian was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to give an answer.

The building was like some horror-movie cliché, with it's long draughty hallways, dark and dreary colours, everything coated in dust and looking like it hadn't been touched since the Victorian ages.

Working here was becoming less and less appealing. Sure, he'd been looking for something unflashy and unobvious, but this was just ridiculous.

A dozen hallways and several flights of stairs later, the two came to a stop.

“This is your room. We supply the necessities, any luxuries you'll have to acquire yourself. Unfortunately the rooms are adjoined, but I doubt you'll have to worry about anything. We're all respectful of privacy here.”

Tanaka dropped a key into Sebastian's palm.

“Inside you'll find your key-pass. With it, you'll be able to open any door in the institute, though bear in mind that all uses of it are recorded by the system.”

Sebastian nodded, luckily taking in the information load.

“There's something I need to attend to for a little while, so why don't you get to know your colleagues? I'll be back shortly.”

As soon as the little man tottered off, Sebastian entered his room, and blanched.

Well, it certainly wasn't The Plaza, that was for sure.

No bigger than the closet back at his old apartment, the room was bare apart from the rickety-looking desk, god-only-knows how old bed and minuscule cupboard. The faded wallpaper was torn in more places that in wasn't, revealing petrified wood. There were two other doors besides the one he'd come in through, presumably to his colleagues' rooms, and Sebastian noted that neither appeared to have a lock on them.

What was that Tanaka had said about privacy?

With a sigh, he resigned himself to his fate, and begun unpacking the bags that had somehow beaten him to the room. Being a traveller, Sebastian never really bothered with 'luxuries' as the man called them, taking only things like clothes. He had a few random books too, but apart from those, he was travelling lightly this time. A good thing, considering how little room he had to work with here.

It didn't take him long to get settled into the room, little over a half hour, so bracing himself for the worst, Sebastian knocked on the closest of the two doors.

The worst was exactly what he got.

No sooner had his fist met the wood did the door swing open, and if Sebastian had been a man with slower reflexes, he'd have been minus a head.

Crimson eyes wide, Sebastian turned to look at the thing impaled in his wall, mouth opening in surprise. A knife?

“You must be the new person,” a sharp voice noted from inside the other room, footsteps coming towards the open door.

A man not much shorter than him strode into the room, striking hazel eyes fixing him with a glare. He plucked the embedded knife from the wall with ease, using the blade to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

Sebastian blinked at the expectant man, weighing the chances of losing a digit if he offered his hand.

“Yes, I'm Sebastian Michaelis. You are?” He tried not to sound shirty, but the guy had nearly done a Sweeney Todd on him. Not exactly a great first impression.

Apparently he wasn't making a great one either, as the man's eyes narrowed further.

“William T. Spears. You may call me Mr. Spears. Now that the pleasantries are over,” Sebastian really didn't want to see the man when he was being unpleasant then, “there are some ground rules you need to make yourself familiar with. Firstly, you do not enter my room. Don't even knock. Secondly, you do not touch my things. I do not like people touching my things. Thirdly, on the chance that the two of us have a shift together, you will arrive at the exact time specified. I do not like to be made to wait. Fourthly-”

“Geez, Will~ Which poor unfortunate are you lecturing now?” Another voice cut through the rant, a very unwelcome one if the look on Mr. Spears', _Will's,_ face was any indication.

“I am not lecturing! Merely making myself clear to avoid any unnecessary disputes,” Will snapped to the redhead sauntering into the room through the other door.

The complete opposite to Will, the new man... woman... _person_ flashed Sebastian a grin. Not so much a _welcome to the neighbourhood!_ grin as a _sleep with one eye open!_ one. Flaming red hair fell to their waist, matching the rest of the red they were wearing, and not that Sebastian was one to judge, but somehow he doubted that their hair was all that was flaming. It may have had something to do with the way the man, definite lack of a rack there, swung his hips as he walked, or tossed his hair over his shoulder, or punctuated each statement he made with a wink.

Or it may have been the ass-pinching.

Yeah, probably the ass-pinching.

Before Sebastian had a chance to punch the guy into next week, he danced out of the way with a giggle.

“Ooh, fresh meat! And a handsome bit at that~ How do you do, I'm Grell Sutcliffe, and if you need anything, and I mean _anything,_ just ask.”

Twitching at the blatant come-on, Sebastian plastered on his business smile.

“Thank you, Mr. Sutcliffe, I'll bear that in mind-”

“Oh please, Sebby, just Grell is fine!”

“...Alright. Grell. I prefer to be called Sebasti-”

“Ooh! I'll introduce you to the others!”

Sebastian could almost see the sheer amount of punctuation marks as the other spoke.

Before he could decline, Grell had attached himself to Sebastian's arm and was pulling him out of the room with a lot more strength than he looked to have.

It took all of five minutes for the annoyance with Grell that would last Sebastian's entire stay at St. Victoria's to be borne. It took the same amount of time for Grell to decide that he wanted _Sebby_ to be his babies' daddy, despite Sebastian's insistence of common sense and science.

When Grell said others, he really only meant two people, since there had only been four Orderlies to begin with. Grell, Will and Agni being three of them. The fourth was a youthful man by the name of Ronald Knox who was clad in identical glasses to Grell and Will and was too busy flirting with the receptionist to learn more than Sebastian's name. To his annoyance, the boy was calling him Sebby too.

That was going to have to stop.

Then Grell had dragged him to meet Agni.

“Sebastian!” The white-haired man had pulled him into a hug, which Sebastian returned despite Grell's pouting, beaming. “I didn't know you'd be arriving so soon!”

“The sooner the better, I figured. You look well, Agni.” Sebastian smiled, a rare genuine one, as he looked over his friend. The man hadn't been faring too well the last time they'd seen each other, shortly before Agni had been hired here, exhausted and the weight dropping from him.

“Thank you. Have you found your room yet?” Agni pulled him over to a table, both ignoring Grell who was whining about being ostracised.

“Yes. I'm already unpacked. They're rather...”

Agni chuckled.

“Basic? Mmm. I knew they'd be different to what you're accustomed to. You'll get used to it soon enough, though. It's just a place to rest your head, really.”

“...You never mentioned in your letters that the staff were mental too.”

“Oh dear. What happened?”

“Well, I was almost skewered, then violated by someone who wants me to bear his children... or he wants to bear mine... It wasn't clear. If this is what the staff are like then the patients will be a breeze.”

“You haven't met the psychiatrists yet,” Agni laughed.

 

 

۞

 

 

An hour later, Sebastian could see just what Agni meant.

Tanaka had come to fetch him from the dining hall he'd been with Agni in, his business apparently taken care of, and the tour began. They left the boarding house and went to the actual building . First they'd gone to meet the Head Orderlies, Sebastian's direct superiors, and the experience was not a promising one. For reasons he couldn't pin down, Sebastian couldn't stand the two of them. They'd not so much as said their names, Ash and Angela, when Sebastian decided there was just something about the two he didn't like.

To be fair, if the looks he was getting from the two were any clue, it was a very mutual feeling.

After a tense and all together awkward induction, Sebastian was relieved to be led out of the shared office.

The next meetings weren't that bad, to be fair. Tanaka took him to the Infirmary, where he introduced him Doctor (whether that was his name or not, Sebastian had no clue, but that was all they called him). Sebastian was relieved to find that, unlike most of the staff he'd met so far, Doctor actually seemed sane, which is always a good thing. A very amiable man, confined to a wheelchair but clearly not bothered by the fact, who was very passionate about his job. Along with him were his aides, a set of triplets named Cantebury, Thompson and Timber, and Hannah, the woman who'd picked him up from the train station.

Unfortunately, the meeting after that did nothing to reaffirm Sebastian's suspicions of whether the staff were secretly patients, and this was all some big test before he actually got the job.

Tanaka took him to the psychiatrists wing of the building, informing him along the way that unfortunately the Head Psychiatrist, Claude Faustus, was with patients all afternoon, and sent his greetings.

There were three other psychiatrists, however.

The first was a man by the name Charles Grey. He was a boyish-looking man, with a plastered on smile and a sharp, if not rather sarcastic, wit. Their entire meeting he'd been grinning, yet somehow managing to still look at him like he was a bug crawling along the man's freshly-cleaned floor.

One of the other men was also called Charles, Charles Phipps. Apparently they went by their last names to avoid confusion. He was polar-opposite to the other Charles, tall where the other was small, quiet where the other was loud, stoic where the other was hot-tempered.

The third and final person was probably the oddest of them all. Barely looking old enough to be out of school, never mind working at an asylum, John Brown was a middle-ground between Grey and Phipps. Calm, though not exactly poker-faced, and seemingly very polite. At least until the handpuppet came out. The handpuppet, apparently called Albert, that, according to John, had taken a very big dislike to Sebastian, and constantly insulted him the entire time he was in the office.

The staff sanity debate aside, Sebastian was more than a little concerned that people's mental health were in the hands of those three. He could only hope that Claude Faustus had more marbles rolling around in his head than them.

Relief flooding through him when Tanaka told him that the tour was pretty much over lasted as long as it took for the explosion beneath them to hit.

“Ah! Of course! I almost forgot to introduce you to our chef.”

If that wasn't foreboding, Sebastian didn't know what was.

When they got down to the kitchens, they were on fire, but this didn't seem to be anything new. A tall man coated in ash was wrestling with a fire extinguisher, cursing loudly as he tried to pry the nozzle free.

“Bardroy? Have you got a minute?” Tanaka asked as though there wasn't a raging fire where Sebastian was pretty sure an oven was supposed to be and... was that a flame-thrower in the corner? That explained so much yet so little.

The man, Bardroy, looked up from his battle with the inanimate object and flashed them a grin, cigarette hanging loosely from his mouth.

“Sure thing, boss! What's up?”

“I'd like to introduce you to our new member of staff, Sebastian Michaelis. He'll be joining the Orderlies. Mr. Michaelis, this is Bardroy, the Institute's Chef.”

“Hey! Nice to meetcha, Sebastian. Call me Bard, everyone does,” the ash-coated blond said, outstretching his hand. Sebastian accepted the hand, returning the man's smile.

“A pleasure, Bard.”

“B-Bard! The alarms going off!” a high-pitched voice exclaimed, a redheaded woman stumbling into the room. A petit blond boy jogged after her, blue eyes wide.

“Whoa, big fire today.”

Sebastian cocked a brow. So this was a daily occurrence?

“Good timing. Guys, this is Sebastian, the new blood. Sebastian, this is Finny, the Gardener, and Meirin, the Housekeeper.”

The little blond, Finny, beamed. Meirin, on the other hand, took one look at Sebastian, all the blood in her body rushing to her face, and promptly collapsed.

Watching the commotion going on in front of him, Bard resuming his battle with the fire extinguisher as said fire continued to blaze, Finny prodding the unconscious woman, and Tanaka watching on with a chuckle, Sebastian decided that he'd been right before. If the staff were like this, how bad could the patients be?

 

 

۞


	2. Chapter 2

۞

 

**Chapter Two**

 

۞

 

 

Sunlight filtered through the curtains, warming his face. His alarm clock continued it's monotonous beeping, but he just couldn't be bothered to hit the snooze button. His bed was far too cosy, and there was a comfortable warmth pressed up against his back, an arm hanging loosely over his waist, that made it clear he'd had an enjoyable night. He must have picked her up from a club... though... he couldn't remember going to a club the night before. In fact... surely there were no night clubs in the English countryside-

“Mmm, your sleeping face is adorable, Sebby~”

…

“Argh!”

Sebastian's eyes snapped open, leg shooting out to expel the unwelcome intruder from his bed. Grell crashed to the floor in a blur of red.

“Don't be so cold...”

“What the hell are you doing in my bed?!” Sebastian demanded, his usual civility forgotten in the early hour.

“I thought you might be lonely on your first night in a new place,” the obviously mentally-challenged redhead crooned, resting his chin in his hand and looking far too comfortable sprawled on Sebastian's floor.

It was a fact known to very few, his mother and Agni possibly being the only ones, that Sebastian Michealis was _not_ a morning person. Low-blood pressure and all that. His usual polite composure was no-where to be seen if his temper was remotely shaken any time before ten o'clock.

Unfortunately for Grell Sutcliffe, it was just gone seven thirty.

“Whoa, Sebby, so rough!”

Sebastian, dragging Grell by the scruff of his scarlet nightdress, grasped the door handle and threw it open.

It should also be known that Sebastian's usually impeccable smarts were somewhat dulled by early mornings too. If it had been ten oh one, he probably would have realised that the door he'd just flung open wasn't Grell's, but Will's. The mistake was quickly realised as a home-made harpoon narrowly missed lancing him through the chest.

Just another morning at St. Victoria's Asylum, as Sebastian would soon come to realise.

 

 

۞

 

 

Sebastian thought his morning couldn't get any worse. Then Agni took him to breakfast.

The dining hall was pretty empty, though apparently it was never particularly full. The number of staff working at St. Victoria's was quite minute. Sebastian had assumed there would be quite a lot of people, so was surprised. Apart from the people he'd met the previous day, there were only a few faceless cleaners and nurses.

Ronald, Will and Grell were already there, Grell more than a little worse for wear after Sebastian had shoved him into Will's room and shut the door. Will was cutting what might once have been an omelette into squares meticulously, obviously ignoring Ronald, who was trying to start a food fight.

_Food_ being used roughly, here. 

Agni concealed a chuckle behind a cough, watching Sebastian's eyes widen as he took in the spread.

Charcoal was apparently the theme of the day.

“You get used to it, Sebastian, honestly. It tastes better than it looks,” the Indian man tried to reassure, choosing odd bits of blackened things and putting them on Sebastian's plate. He sympathised, he really did. Agni knew perfectly well what a picky eater Sebastian was, especially considering he was such a good cook that other people's food just didn't match up. He probably would have been better taking a chefs role rather than an Orderlies.

“You met Bard?” Agni asked, steering clear of Will & Co's table. You could practically see Will's fuse shortening.

“Briefly. He was... preoccupied.” Sebastian poked at what he assumed was bacon, half-expecting it to oink.

Agni laughed, “He usually is. He does like to experiment in the kitchen.”

The experiments should have stayed in the kitchen, Sebastian thought, as he took a brave bite and almost retched. Agni was right, it did taste better than it looked, not that that was much consolation.

Once they'd choked down enough to prevent starving, Agni led Sebastian towards the main building. Despite himself, Sebastian was actually growing nervous. If he was having this much trouble with the staff, how was he possibly going to handle the actual patients?

Agni must have noticed his tension and assured him it was probably going to be a quiet day, that it had been relatively calm for a while now.

That soothed Sebastian for all of five seconds.

As soon as they stepped through what must have been the hundredth security door, a blaring siren almost deafened them. Those nameless nurses he hadn't nor did it seem likely that he would meet were rushing by, panic clear in every movement. Agni grabbed one in passing, asking what was going on.

“A-Alois!” she gasped before sprinting away. Apparently this meant something to Agni, who's eyes widened, and he sped after her. Sebastian, clueless and curious all at once, was following him before he even realised it.

Agni skidded to a halt in a doorway and Sebastian almost crashed into him, just about managing to catch himself.

“Not again,” Agni hissed, actually _hissed,_ before slowly going into the room.

A knot formed in Sebastian's stomach, the 'food' he'd eaten before almost making a comeback.

In the middle of the room, amidst the squealing nurses and hesitantly approaching Agni, was Hannah. She was silent, lips pressed tightly together against the building scream begging to be let free. Blood streamed down her alabaster skin, staining her once pristine dress. Trembles shook her, but she didn't move, not an inch, in fear of unbalancing the boy straddling her.

He was grinning. A completely mad grin, unhinged laughter bubbling from his lips every now and then, burrowing his fingers further and further into Hannah's left eye. They were buried straight to the knuckle, her blood running down his fingers.

Agni was approaching him like one would approach a wild animal, and maybe that's exactly what he was. The boy's head snapped around, striking blue eyes pinning Agni to the spot, and he twisted his fingers sharply making a pained gasp escape the woman.

Agni froze, “Alois, you're only making things worse for yourself. Please. Get off her.”

His only response was to twist his fingers further, another bark of laughter.

It was sick. The look in the boy's, Alois', eyes. The sheer joy at the pain he was inflicting. He was completely relishing every whimper she made.

With a defeated sigh, Agni retreated, addressing one of the several weeping nurses, “Go get Ciel Phantomhive. He'll listen to him.”

The woman nodded, fleeing the room as though the hounds of hell were after her.

Sebastian had assumed this Phantomhive person was another Orderly he had yet to meet, so was more than a little surprised when the nurse returned with a young boy.

He couldn't possibly have been any older than Alois, and was dressed in the same plain white shirt and white pants, the standard clothing for the patients of St. Victoria's. With dark, almost blue, hair grazing his shoulders, and one sapphire eye, the other covered by a plain white patch much in keeping with the hospital's clothes. He didn't walk into the room so much as he strutted, not in an obnoxious way, but in a way that exuded nothing but pride. He held a regal air, unfitting to someone so obviously young.

His name was Ciel Phantomhive, and even though Sebastian didn't know it at that moment, he was going to change his life irreparably.

The blue-eyed boy paused at the entrance of the room, raising one slender brow as he took in the sight before him. Like everyone else bar Sebastian, he didn't seem remotely surprised.

“Ciel! I'm sorry to bother you, but... well, we can't get him to stop,” Agni murmured, walking to Ciel's side, gaze flittering between the newcomer and the eye-gouger. The boy, Ciel, just looked at Agni, as if to say _'so what?'._

“He listens to you,” Agni continued, tone pleading. Agni wasn't a weak man by any means, he could have bodily removed Alois with ease. He was, however, a pacifist. He didn't want to exert his strength over another, especially someone he considered a child, at least mentally. Besides, if they did have force Alois off Hannah, he could hurt her even further.

Ciel donned a contemplative look, gazing over at the blond boy, “What's in it for me?”

Agni faltered.

“W-Well... what do you want?”

Ciel shrugged.

“Nothing in particular.”

The Indian man was obviously resisting the urge to tear his hair from his scalp, though if Sebastian had been in his position, he'd probably have wanted to do it to the boy rather than himself. He may have been new to the job, but he was fairly sure you weren't supposed to negotiate with patients.

“There must be something. I can't promise I'll be able to do it, but I'll try! Surely there's something,” Agni insisted, desperation seeping in as another choked sob escaped the floored woman.

“Hmm... well, I guess there is something...”

Agni visibly brightened.

“Ash took my marble set off me. Decided it was hazardous,” the boy sneered, obviously he didn't agree, “Will you try and get it back to me?”

“S-Sure! I'll do my best. So...?”

Ciel heaved a ragged sigh, glanced back over to the pair in the centre of the room, and bit out, “Alois! Off her!”

As though a switch had been flicked, the boy's head shot round and, as soon as he saw the other patient, the manic grin melded into a bright, almost innocent smile. He jumped to his feet, fingers sliding out of Hannah's socket with a slick pop that nearly made Sebastian wince, and skipped over to Ciel.

“Ciel~ I thought you were ignoring me!” Alois said, the words sounding like song with the boy's musical lilt. Ciel just shrugged again, neither agreeing nor disputing the claim, folding his arms across his chest. He virtually radiated indifference. At least until the blond outstretched his arms, as though to hug the other, and vivid disgust flashed in the one visible eye. Before Alois' touch even brushed him, Ciel had lashed out, slapping the other's hand away.

“Don't touch me with such filthy hands,” he snapped before turning on his heel and leaving the room with the same swagger he'd entered it with.

The smile slid from the other's face, an almost-pout reaching his lips, and Agni shot forward to place a hand on his shoulder. As though fearing another eye-plucking incident, Agni steered the visibly depressed boy from the room, shooting Sebastian an apologetic look, “Can you take Ms. Anafeloz to the Infirmary, Sebastian?”

Sebastian nodded, walking over to the shaking woman.

“Can you stand?” he asked gently, kneeling beside her and taking her arm. She gave a jerky nod and, with Sebastian's help, lumbered to her feet. The blood was caked across her nose and chin, already dried onto the now-ruined dress. Despite that, she was walking quite steadily once she found her feet, and Sebastian had to wonder whether this type of thing happened often. Seeing that she was surprisingly lucid, he didn't bother holding back, and asked what exactly had happened.

She stayed silent for so long that Sebastian thought she wasn't going to answer, making him jump when she did.

“I was giving him his usual medication- that's one of my responsibilities as Head Nurse, though usually Dr. Faustus takes care of it... His name's Alois Trancy... He's one of our more... _volatile_ patients. But he'd been so well-behaved lately! I-I let my guard down, I suppose...” she muttered, more to herself than Sebastian, and he had to strain to hear her.

Alois Trancy, he made a mental-note of the name, and to never _'let his guard down'_ around him.

“He's quite bi-polar, you see... He seemed so content, I just didn't think...”

He'd noticed the bi-polarness himself, actually. One second, sunshine and daisies, then the Ciel boy rejected his embrace, and you could practically see the raincloud hovering above his head.

They finally reached the Infirmary. One of the triplets, he'd have to learn to differentiate between them at some point, took Hannah's arm and led her over to Doctor.

“Oh my! What on Earth happened to you, darling? You poor thing,” he cooed, as if to a child, gesturing for her to sit before him.

Sebastian stood off to the side, watching Doctor's hands move around Hannah's face skilfully. He liked this man already, the sheer professionalism he held about him, his obvious passion for his work.

The man tutted, shaking his head regretfully.

“Completely destroyed, I'm afraid. Nothing much I can do but bandage you up. And they're such a pretty colour too, _such_ a pity,” Doctor chuntered, placing a piece of gauze over the former-eye. Hannah didn't seem too fussed over the loss, Sebastian thought, as she merely nodded her head at the diagnosis.

“So careless,” an unfamiliar voice scolded from the doorway. Sebastian watched as Hannah tensed all over, fisting clumps of her ruined dress and casting her eye resolutely to the ground.

The man who walked into the room was as tall as Sebastian, with slick black hair and odd amber eyes, a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles resting on the bridge of his nose. He could have been Will's brother, Sebastian thought offhandly, as he strode towards him, back rim-rod straight.

“You must be Mr. Michealis. I apologise for Hannah's error, you shouldn't have had to escort her.” His voice matched his appearance, carefully free of all emotion. He ignored all the others in the room, even when Doctor attempted to address him, as though they were beneath him. “I was with patients yesterday, so unfortunately I missed your induction. I am Dr. Faustus. You may call me Claude.”

Sebastian stared at the offered hand before him as though it would bite, unsure why. It was like Angela and Ash all over again. This instant, unexplainable dislike. He remembered himself though, his professionalism taking over, and plastered on his for-the-boss smile as he shook the offered hand.

“Pleasure to meet you, Claude. You may call me Sebastian, if you like.”

This first name business was making him uncomfortable already. They were all insisting on it, as well. It was like when he was at school, and there was that one teacher who always tried to _bond_ with the kids by letting them call them by name. There was a line drew between people, be they students and teachers or workers and their superiors, for a reason. Sebastian, a worker to the core, always found it uncomfortable when that line was broached.

Nevermind that it was usually because the person, and he'd had this experience with both teachers and bosses, wanted to bond in a very unprofessional way.

“Sebastian it is, then. Come along, I'll introduce you to the patients.”

Claude left the room and Sebastian reluctantly followed, almost wanting to stay in the Infirmary if only to disobey the man.

The atmosphere on the hospital floor was drastically different than what could only have been an hour before. The alarm was no long screaming, the nurses were walking calmly down the halls chatting amiably with one another, it was as though Alois' attack hadn't even happened.

It was forgotten already.

“Every patient has their own room, which is locked at eight o'clock, and isn't opened again until eight o'clock the next morning. They spend most of their time in the leisure room. That is where the group sessions are held too, every Wednesday morning.”

Claude held up his I.D card against the electronic panel as they reached another security door. It swung open immediately, and he ushered Sebastian in.

“Nearly all the patients here only answer to nicknames they've donned. We've found it easier to go along with it, they grow aggressive otherwise.”

Sebastian nodded his understanding, following Claude into the leisure room. It was semi-full, and Sebastian frowned. These were the patients, and none looked any older than early-twenties. No-one had mentioned St. Victoria's was a children's institute.

All eyes turned on them as they walked in, all openly curious, and the loud chatter petered out.

“Everyone. This is Sebastian Michealis, a new member of staff. Introduce yourselves.”

Claude was even shorter with the patients than with the staff, it seemed.

No-one offered their names, real or otherwise, glancing and whispering to each other conspiratorially. Eventually, one of the older looking boys snickered, lazily sticking his hand into the air and giving a lop-sided grin, “I'm Joker. Pardon our rudeness, we're pretty shy.”

This was obviously some sort of inside-joke, and the other kids broke out into giggles.

The boy, Joker, stood from the chair he was lounged across, stretching like a cat.

“Riiight, lemme see. This lovely lady here is Beast, you'll wanna watch her,” he winked at the curly-haired woman, who flushed deeply, “And her equally lovely brother, Dagger.”

Dagger grinned broadly at Joker, relishing in the minor praise.

“Here we have Peter and Wendy, our resident Neverland couple!” the spiky-haired man announced with flourish, earning a mass groan from the others, Peter swatting at him. They looked the youngest in the room, couldn't possibly even be in their teens yet, true to their names.

Joker swaggered towards the other couch, draping himself across the back of it, “Over here we have Freckles. Don't let her pretty face fool ya, she's a feisty one! And this is Jumbo, our very own B.F.G.”

The huge man rolled his eyes, almost fondly, and shoved the man off the couch.

“Over in the corner there is Snake and Drocell. Quiet ones, them,” he whispered to Sebastian like it was a well-kept secret, pointing to the table on the far side of the room where two teens murmured to each other beneath their breath, apparently oblivious to the newcomer.

“Well! It's not afternoon yet, so Soma won't be up for a while. Smile'll be in his room, he doesn't come out much, aaaaaand you know about the whole Alois-debacle so no wonders there. That's pretty much it. Say hi to the fresh blood, everyone!”

Well, if that wasn't reassuring...

“Hiii, fresh blood,” they all chorused with the enthusiasm of a sentenced convict.

“Come along, Sebastian. Let's get some fresh air,” Claude not so much suggested as demanded, striding from the room before he'd even finished speaking, as though loathe to even be there. Sebastian turned to follow him but paused as a hand rested on his arm.

Joker's exuberant grin toned down to an amused smile.

“Welcome to the circus, mate, and good luck. You'll need it.”

 

 

۞

 

 

Leaves crunched beneath their feet as they furthered down the garden paths. Even by Sebastian's standards, the gardens were quite magnificent. Flowers he didn't even know were blooming all around, the grass was perfectly trimmed, even the fallen autumn leaves were in perfect placements as though there intentionally.

It took a lot to impress Sebastian, but he couldn't deny that these gardens were truly something else.

His charming companion did not share the sentiment.

“I told Finnian to have these leaves cleaned away by now,” Claude muttered beneath his breath, semi-scowling at them as though they'd killed his puppy. Unlikely, since he seemed more likely to eat puppies than own them.

Claude gestured to a bench across from them, taking a seat and raising an eyebrow when Sebastian didn't immediately follow his lead. There was just something about the man that irked him, made him want act petty, like staying standing even if he didn't want to just because the man had sat first. Remembering himself yet again, Sebastian sat down.

“I was surprised. I'd expected there to be more patients,” Sebastian said when the silence became stifling. Claude glanced at him askance.

“They're all rather high-maintenance. Given how much care each of them need, and how difficult it is getting staff, we only take the serious cases. While we're on the subject, Sebastian... a word of caution. You saw what happened to that woman this morning.”

“Yes... that was quite awful.”

He'd also seen how dismissive everyone else had been, especially Claude, who even went so far as to scold her for it. Not to mention how shaken she'd been when Claude had entered the room.

Sebastian had certainly seen.

“I'm rather glad actually.”

“...I beg your pardon?” Sebastian asked, sure he'd heard wrong.

“I'm glad you saw that. Now you will have no silly misconceptions. They may seem like harmless children, Sebastian, but that's part of what makes them so dangerous. As they say, _the devil's greatest trick was convincing everyone he didn't exist._ Those people will try to convince you they're normal, it's what they do, and they will play on their childish looks and actions to trick you. You mustn't be fooled!”

Claude grew fervent as he spoke, cat-like eyes intense on his own, and Sebastian felt himself growing uncomfortable beneath the other's gaze.

“You mustn't be gentle with them, either. They'll see it as a sign of weakness, and they'll use anything they can against you. Never forget this; _they're here for a reason.”_

And Sebastian realised just why he didn't like this man.

Dr. Claude Faustus was trusted with the role of Head Psychiatrist. All of the patients mental health was in his hands, and yet... he seemed to _hate_ them. He looked on them with nothing short of disdain, and spoke of them with sheer disgust.

Sebastian wasn't a terribly compassionate man, by definition. What happened to other people was just that, as far as he was concerned. It happened to _other_ people. It was none of his business, and he like to keep it that way. His dislike for Claude stemmed not from compassion for the patients he seemed to zealously hate, but for the blatant disregard of what his post so obviously called for.

Sebastian may have had many _many_ jobs over the years, and he always left them just as quickly as he'd started them. He was damn near promiscuous in his work. However, if there was one thing Sebastian Michaelis prided himself on, it was that when he was doing a job, that job was _him._ He gave the work his mind, body and soul. That was a worker's aesthetics. His creed.

_That_ was why he disliked Claude Faustus. 

 

 

۞


	3. Chapter 3

۞

 

**Chapter Three**

 

۞

 

 

A week had passed since the day in the gardens, and the dreaded had happened.

Sebastian had fallen into _routine._

The word was damn near blasphemy to him. Things going by schedule, no spontaneity, going through the motions, Sebastian abhorred the very idea. It usually took much longer than a week for it to happen, and it was usually about the time that well-used letter of resignation was handed in.

A part of him was irked that he was even considering throwing in the towel after a mere seven days. Then again, boredom simply could not be tolerated.

Sebastian didn't even blink at the intruder in his bed, grabbing the flaming redhead and tossing him back into his own room. With ease, he dodged what could have been a mini homemade axe (Will, feeling particularly loathing for the time being, wasn't limiting his traps to his own room any longer, determined to catch Sebastian off-guard at least once), and got dressed. Agni, as usual, was waiting outside the door for him and the two went down to 'breakfast'. As with every day so far, Ronald came down later than everyone else, was scolded by Will for being a waste of space, and promptly began using his spoon as a catapult to launch his food at Will's face. Meanwhile, Grell would be trying to feed Sebastian, managing to inappropriately touch Sebastian so much that the dark-haired man was thankful restraining orders were always an option.

By this time, Sebastian had also gotten to know the patients. At least enough to know how to handle them. They were very fond of teasing, though after not getting the rise they wanted from him during the first few days, they reverted to tearing Agni a new one, who spluttered and blushed almost non-stop.

“Mornin', Agni! Oh, and you too, Sebastian!” Soma, one of the few patients that had been missing during the initial introductions, jogged over as they entered the leisure room, face split in a grin.

Sebastian wasn't sure what he'd been expecting from the patients. Maybe after seeing Alois and his apparent hobby, he'd been expecting an entire ward of mutilators. They were, for the most part, quite friendly actually. Especially Soma, and especially towards Agni.

Sebastian didn't miss the light dusting of red across Agni's face as Soma's blinding smile was turned on him.

And Sebastian had been under the impression that Agni was completely asexual. Good for him.

“Good morning,” the Indian responded with a light smile of his own, and as was becoming the norm when he was near the two, Sebastian couldn't help the feeling of being an intruder.

He didn't have to feel that way though long, as a hand sharply tapped his shoulder, and a familiar administrative voice called for his attention.

“Sorry for the abruptness, Sebastian, but I need a favour,” Angela stated, ushering him towards the door and out of hearing range from everyone else.

“No need to apologise, what do you need?” Even if quitting was on his mind, Sebastian would be professionally polite to his (bitch of a) superior until the two-weeks notice was on her desk.

She gave him a tight-lipped smile, “I'm afraid Ash has fallen ill- he's rather prone to sickness- so I was hoping you could cover his shift tonight.”

The tone made it clear that she was telling, not hoping.

“Of course. I hope it's nothing too serious.”

The sincerity was positively dripping from his words.

Angela smirked then, and warning bells rang in Sebastian's mind. Hers was a smile that could make Satan cry for his mommy.

“No, nothing too serious at all. He should be over it in a day or two.”

Sebastian would be lying if he said he wasn't disappointed at that.

“Go back to bed and rest up then. Be back here by eight.” With that she stalked away, and he almost had to resist the childish urge to flip her off behind her back. Knowing her, she'd probably still manage to see it. He wasn't entirely unsure that her head _couldn't_ turn a one-eighty.

“Agni, looks like I'll be doing the night shift instead. I'll see you later,” Sebastian called over, managing the impossible task of taking Agni's attention away from Soma.

An almost imperceptible look crossed Agni's face, though it was quickly dismissed.

“Really? Why?”

“Apparently Ash is sick.”

Agni frowned then, a rare thing for the usually cheerful man.

“...Oh. Alright. I'll see you later then.”

Well, that was odd, Sebastian thought as he left the ward. It was almost as though Agni didn't believe him. Angela had said that her brother was prone to sickness, so surely this wasn't the first time someone from the day shift was asked to cover for him? Surely, working there was long as he had, Agni himself had done so.

“ _Ooh, a slacker~”_

It took him a moment to place the disembodied voice.

“Hello, John.”

The puppet actually looked offended.

“ _Arthur, idiot. Thought you were meant to be smart. That's what Charlie said. He's an idiot too, though, so can't really blame him there.”_

“...Which Charles are you talking about? There are a few.”

“ _Grey, of course. They're both idiots, but Phipps is practically a mute, so it's hard to tell.”_

The guy probably called himself an idiot too, if his liberalness with the word was any indication.

“Well, as charming as it is talking to you, I-”

“ _Claudey'll be mad if he finds out you're skipping work already~”_

“I'm not skipping. My shift's been switched.”

“...Pardon?” the puppet was pulled back through the crack of the door, and John Brown's head popped out, the sunglasses still present even though he was inside. Sebastian almost sighed as he realised he'd actually been _talking to a puppet._

“I'm covering for Ash tonight.”

And again, like with Agni, that unreadable look flashed across John's face, disappearing as quickly as it appeared. As did John, slipping back behind the door.

“ _Then get your lazy ass to bed, Stretch,”_ 'Arthur' dismissed, one mini-cloth hand waving goodbye. 

 

 

۞

 

 

It was just gone eight, and Sebastian was back on the ward. All the doors were locked, the patients inside their rooms for the duration, and he readied himself for a night of wandering empty halls pretending to be doing something. If this was seriously all Ash did, he had it pretty easy.

The place was pretty creepy at night. It was certainly no Gothic castle with portraits that watched your every step and phantom screams echoing the halls, though that probably would have been more interesting. No creaking stairs or tree branches scratching along the windows here. Still, it was almost eerie. It was kind of like being in a school at night. That feeling you get from a place that is usually filled with people and noise, that should be loud and bustling, and the absence of those things is so obvious it's painful. It was like it was  _wrong._ The entire place just felt wrong in it's stillness. 

“Who're you?”

Sebastian jolted, resentfully caught off guard at the unexpected voice. He backtracked a few steps to the entrance of the leisure room he'd just crossed. Somehow he'd missed that a light was still on in there, and that there was the faintest shuffle of movement. A single sapphire eye watched him, almost accusingly, and it was the type of look that made you want to apologise even without knowing what you were apologising for.

He was lounged across an armchair, back against one armrest, legs dangling languidly over the other. He was wearing the same thing he'd been wearing the first time Sebastian had seen him, though he probably had a wardrobe filled with those same clothes. The baggy and unflattering long-sleeved shirt, so white it made the already pale person look even more drained, and the drawstring pants that swamped him. His hair was all in a disarray and practically begged for a good combing, that little fact somehow annoying the well-groomed Sebastian.

“It's rude to stare,” Ciel, Sebastian remembered that, stated, visible eye narrowing. Again, the look brought with it the urge to apologise for whatever unknown slight had been committed.

Sebastian wasn't the type to apologise, though.  
“I'm Sebastian Michealis. I started working here last week,” he responded smoothly, stepping into the dimly-lit room. A single lamp was the only source of light, leaving most of the room in darkness. The shadows almost seemed to move.

Ciel gave him a once-over then turned his gaze to the table he was sitting before, murmuring offhandly, “I had a dog called Sebastian once,” then looked back at him expectantly, as though Sebastian was meant to respond to the random statement.

“I'm more of a cat-person myself.”

Distaste was evident on the boy's face at that, before he gestured to the chair across from him.

“Are you going to sit or not?” he asked, exasperatedly.

“...If you don't mind my asking,” Sebastian began, sinking into the plush armchair across from Ciel, “how is it you're not in your room?”

“Black or white?” Ignoring the question, Ciel busied himself with straightening out the carefully placed marble chess pieces before him, absently brushing a stray lock of teal hair from his eye.

“Angela told me that rooms are locked at eight, and it's eight thirty now-”

“My room is never locked. I'm less... high risk than the others, so my door stays open. Now, black or white?” he said in the same way you spoke to the kid who just couldn't seem to grasp that crayons are not edible, and Sebastian was further irked.

“I'm sure Angela would have mentioned-”

“You're black.”

Ciel moved one of his pawns, not seeming to think through movements or strategies at all.

“I'm not playing,” Sebastian informed, ignoring how childish the sentence ended up sounding. Alls that was missing was a pout.

“Yes, you are.” Ciel wasn't asking.

“...No. Now, I think you should go to your room.”

“You're covering for Ash-”

“Angela would have said if-”

“-And he always plays with me, so-”

“-there was anyone exempt from the curfew-”

“-now it's your job to play with me-”

“-which she didn't, so-”

“-make your move.”

“-go to your room.”

Sapphire and crimson eyes clashed over the chessboard. Sebastian crossed one leg over the other, raising one brow expertly. Ciel, if possible, slouched further into the chair, lips pressed tightly together in disapproval. Was this man  _seriously_ telling him to go to bed? As in, bed time, sleep tight, bed bugs and all that? They stared each other down, neither willing to submit.

Sebastian blinked as Ciel's lips curved up in a ghost of a smirk.

“Afraid to lose?”

Now, Sebastian was no fool. In fact, one could argue he was something of a genius. So he could certainly see bait when it was being dangled before his face. However, it was unfortunate that that particular quality often contradicted another one; Sebastian Michealis did not like to lose. Whether it be a game of chess, sports, cooking, even knitting, he never lost. He may have been graceful in his victories, but he did not let his challengers forget that victory either.

After all of five minutes of 'conversation', Sebastian had decided that this person was someone who was in desperate need of tasting defeat, and who was he to deprive the boy of one of life's vital lessons?

Sebastian gave a smirk of his own.

“You should know, I've never lost a game.”

Ciel sat up straighter in his seat so as to reach the board better, “We'll see.”

 

 

۞

 

 

The shadows retreated to the deepest corners of the room, chased away by the first few rays of sunlight breaking through the window. The lamp was now rendered useless, but neither moved to turn it off, all eyes trained on the marble chessboard sitting on the table.

Sebastian's face was creased in a very rare frown, index finger of his left hand still resting atop his Rook, other hand poised to his lips. Concentration was obvious in every fine line of his face.

His opponent had, over the course of the night, sunken further and further into the cushions of his chair as Sebastian had gotten more and more into the game, face completely calm, his several victories over the older man coming with ease.

The click of a door opening in the distance and the familiar beeping of the security panel startled them both, and Sebastian's finger slipped from the Rook.

“Checkmate.”

Ciel pushed Sebastian's King down across the chequered panels, no small amount of smugness in his voice.

Sebastian bit back a curse.

“Good morning,” Angela greeted, coming into the room, and Sebastian floundered a little before realising that she didn't look at all surprised to see Ciel there.

So he'd been telling the truth then.

“The next shift starts soon, so you can go get some sleep, Sebastian,” she offered, putting away the chess pieces, apparently oblivious to the scowl that sprung upon Ciel's face when she touched them.

Sebastian rose from the chair with a sigh, suddenly realising just how tired he was.

“You... actually weren't so bad to play against. Ash loses within five minutes, every time. You actually lasted almost an hour at one point... not bad,” Ciel relented, looking loathe to do so, before what could have passed as a childish excitement shone in his eye, “Play me again sometime. Who knows, with more practise, you might actually win one.”

Well, wasn't that almost a compliment.

“I'll definitely win next time,” Sebastian stated, lips curling upwards.

“Heh. I'll look forward to it, Sebastian.”

 

 

۞

 

 

As it turned out, Sebastian would be waiting for that next game longer than he'd thought.

The next day, he returned to his regular hours. The usual morning routine went ahead before he made his way to the ward with Agni, who was immediately latched on to by Soma, chattering animatedly about something or other. Sebastian glanced around the room and it's residents, surprising himself when he was a little disappointed by Ciel's absence.

As the morning crawled on, Ciel still didn't appear, and Sebastian was starting to grow impatient. The numerous losses still stung. He'd never lost before, not to anyone.  _Especially_ not at chess. While he had to admit the game bored him to some extent, he was still proud to say that he was something of a reigning champion. 

At least he was, until the one-eyed brat usurped him from his throne.

How was he supposed to take back his title if the kid wasn't showing?

“Soma? When does Ciel usually wake up?” He eventually buckled, and asked the purple-haired man, who Sebastian had learned knew a lot more about all of the other patients and even the staff than was probably good.

“Wake up? Hmm... I'm not too sure, to be honest. But he doesn't really come out here much when Alois is in the room,” Soma replied, fiddling with the string on his pants, pouting when one of his fingers got caught in the knot.

Sebastian glanced around the leisure room, “But Alois  _isn't_ here.”

Soma giggled, something someone his age should not do, “Not  _this_ room.  _The_ Room.”

“...What do you mean?”

“Agni~ I got it knotted again!” Unfortunately, as much of an information-bank as Soma was, he also had the attention span of a squirrel, and he didn't seem to hear Sebastian's question as he shot across the room to the waiting Agni.

 

 

۞

 

 

It would be another three days before Sebastian would see Ciel again, and even then, it was only for a few fleeting seconds. During those three days, however, it wasn't Ciel he was thinking of much, but rather where exactly Alois had disappeared to. It hadn't occurred to him until Soma had mentioned the boy, but after that incident with Hannah, Sebastian hadn't seen the boy once. Agni had led him from the room, then nothing. Almost two weeks later, and he hadn't returned to the ward.

If Soma's vague words were to be trusted, and Agni would protest very strongly that they were, then Alois was in some room. The Room. Whatever or wherever it was.

It was half way through the afternoon, around the time when the patients got lethargic and quietened down, and the staff relaxed a bit, that Claude entered the leisure room. Behind him, clinging lightly to his sleeve, followed Alois.

Sebastian had to look twice to even realise this was the same boy.

On the first time he'd seen him, although blood-stained and deranged, Alois had given off an effervescent air, with gleaming eyes and face-splitting grins. Maybe he only appeared so happy when he was gouging women's eyes out.

Now, he was meek, skin pallid, eyes dulled, hair hanging lankly around a cadaverous face.

The room went even quieter than it had already been, all eyes turning to the pair in the doorway. Claude, hand resting on the boy's shoulder, leant down and muttered something into Alois' ear. The blond nodded, pulling away from the bespectacled man, and stumbled further into the room. Eyes glued to the floor, he made his way over to the same door Sebastian had been waiting to open, and rapped on the wood.

There were only two people Sebastian had noticed approached Ciel's door; Soma and a girl who called herself Freckles. Any time they knocked, the door had never been opened. This time, however, not long after Alois' fist had met the wood, the door swung open.

No words were exchanged between the two. Alois dragged his eyes from the floor, meeting Ciel's stony gaze, and Ciel stepped aside. Alois darted into the room, the door slipping shut behind him. 

Noise rose up again, an almost forced chatter amidst the patients, and the tension in the air dissipated.

Claude caught his gaze and gestured him over. Reluctantly, loathe to even be in the same room as the man, Sebastian obliged.

“Sebastian,” Claude greeted, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose.

“Hello,” Sebastian replied.

Claude looked towards Ciel's closed door, “Keep an eye on those two, Sebastian. Alois is very easily... influenced by Ciel. I'm fairly certain the incident with Nurse Anafeloz had something to do with him.”

He didn't even wait for Sebastian to respond, turning on his heel and striding from the room the second he'd said his piece.

Despite himself, Sebastian found that he did keep on eye on that closed door throughout the day. A wasted effort, however, as it didn't open again. Not once. They didn't leave the room, even when Soma knocked and jauntily announced it was dinner time. And Sebastian could have sworn that, as he passed next to the door, he heard sobbing from inside.

 

 

۞

 

 

Sebastian Michealis had worked at St. Victoria's Institute for two weeks. After the first week, he'd begun to feel boredom in the work, and considered handing in his resignation. By the end of the second week, resigning was the last thing on his mind.

Questions were beginning to surface.

Why had the other Orderlies reacted so oddly when Ash had fallen ill and Sebastian had had to cover for him?

Where had Alois been those two weeks, and why was he in such a pathetic state when he'd returned? Even though Sebastian didn't really have a basis for comparison, something told him that that wasn't how Alois generally was.

What exactly was that room Soma had mentioned?

But more than anything, just how damn  _sane_ Ciel Phantomhive had seemed when they had played chess throughout the night.

 

 

۞


	4. Chapter 4

۞

 

**Chapter Four**

 

۞

 

 

He'd only been in bed all of half an hour, sleep alluding him as usual, when his door swung open and hit the wall with a crash. Half-heartedly, he wondered if the nuisance would leave if he pretended to be asleep, but dismissed the idea. If he pretended to be asleep the brat would probably just sit on him or something.

“Go away, Alois. I'm tired,” the lump under the covers sluggishly snapped.

“Nuh-uh! It's Wednesday!” the blond announced, back to his exuberant self, bounding over to the bed and tugging on the quilt. He dodged the leg aimed at his stomach without even a blink, face-splitting grin not faltering, and finally succeeded in tearing the sheets from Ciel's death grip.

Ciel's temper only worsened when Alois lacked the decency to spontaneously combust beneath his one-eyed glare.

“Come _ooon._ If you don't come out now, Grey'll just come in and annoy you out anyway, and you know how you hate it when he comes in your room,” Alois reasoned, holding the sought-after sheets and dancing away from Ciel's outstretched hand.

Ciel frowned.

“...He touches my stuff,” he agreed, remembering the last time that damnable psychiatrist had had the gall to come into his room. It was ages until Ciel was satisfied that his models were germ-free.

Not to mention the imbecile had called them _toys._ They were not toys, they were collectables, dammit!

“Exactly!” Alois thought he'd won the weekly debate until Ciel just shrugged and flipped over, burying his face in the pillow. Annoyance surged up, he was _this_ close to pouting.

“ _Ciiiel, I have candy~”_

If Ciel had been a dog, his ears would have shot up.

Suspiciously, he looked over his shoulder at the newcomer in the doorway, brows furrowing.

“If it's that home-made stuff you tried to fob me off with last time, Soma, I swear to whatever God you believe in...” he trailed off when the purple-haired man opened his palm, a handful of wrapped sweets revealing themselves.

Five minutes later, Ciel was dressed and closing his bedroom door behind him, chewing a mouthful of toffee. Everyone else was already in the leisure room, all the chairs being arranged in a semi-circle in the centre. Both his self-proclaimed best friends flanked him, bickering between themselves about just who would be sitting next to Ciel, neither noticing when he meandered over to a waving Freckles, settling into his usual armchair beside her.

“Mornin', Smile,” she greeted with a bright one of her own. When he only frowned at the stupid nickname, she snickered, snatching one of the wrappers and playing with it.

“Whew, full house today,” Grey began, his ever-present grin plastered across his face. Phipps sat silently beside him, scribbling something onto the clipboard in his lap, looking forever-bored.

“So, let's start with the regular. Go round the circle and tell me how you're feelin', don't be afraid to express yourselves, guys.” No matter what the man said, it always sounded so sarcastic. God, Ciel hated even being in the same room as him. Conversations with Grey never failed to bring up the unhealthy urge to punch a baby in the face.

Peter was the unfortunate sitting directly next to Grey, and snorted, “I'm feelin' like I always feel when you make us do this; like this shit is stupid.”

Grey leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees and adopting a look of intense fascination at Peter's words, “Uh-huh. Yes, I'm feeling a lot of pent-up aggression here. Did you get that, Phipps? Make sure to get it word-for-word, we've made a big break through here.”

Peter just rolled his eyes at the obvious mocking, folding his arms across his chest and glancing away from the source of annoyance.

“Alright, Wendy, what about you?” Grey turned to the small girl sat beside Peter, who instantly looked flustered, and shrugged, muttering something about feeling fine. Peter flared up instantly, his temper not good at the best of times, and barked, “Stop makin' her feel uncomfortable!”

Grey just laughed.

Soma was next, and just cheerily responded with a _Great!,_ and Ciel almost smirked as he expertly gave Grey nothing to work with.

Eventually Grey got bored of that, luckily before he got to Beast who would have given as good as she got, and then they'd all have to put up with Dagger rushing to defend his sister's honour for the next hour, which got old quick.

Ciel was pretty sure Phipps was just doodling at this point.

“Alright! Enough of that. Today's key word is _self-control.”_

Everyone laughed at that, even Ciel couldn't help snickering a little. Grey's amused gaze was upon Alois as he said it.

“Now I know we've discussed this many times before, but because of a _certain someone,_ the higher ups are making me sit through it again. Thank you for that, Trancy. Anything you'd like to say?”

Alois' grin turned feral.

“You talking about what happened with that whore? Pfft, that had nothing to do with lack of self-control. I did exactly as I meant to do.”

It would have been alright if the patients had been the only ones laughing at that. They were insane, right? Things like that amuse them. However, an appalled Sebastian thought as he watched the session from the other side of the room, what the hell was Grey doing, cracking up just as much as Alois? Even Phipps let out a chortle at the boy's words. They... It was like they were encouraging the blond's actions.

Sebastian's gaze caught with Ciel's, and the same disgust that Sebastian felt at the psychiatrists was reflected in the eye that met his. He was almost relieved, but with that relief came yet more confusion. Because yet again, this patient was appearing as more sane than yet another member of staff.

 

 

۞

 

 

Ciel had disappeared into his room at some point during the session when Sebastian wasn't looking, and his faint hope of maybe catching a game was dashed yet again. A part of him was annoyed that he'd allowed the kid to get under his skin so easily, so quickly, but he was mostly annoyed that he hadn't had his rematch yet.

“Sebastian, there's someone I'd like you to meet,” Tanaka said, pulling Sebastian away from his work and out into the hall. There waited a man. Or a woman. It was impossible to tell beneath the dozens of layers of black. Shaggy gray hair hung across the man's face, hiding his eyes from view. An impossibly wide grin stretched across their face, showing all their teeth and giving the impression more of a vicious snarl than a smile.

“This is one of my fellow Chairmen, his name is-”

“Call me Undertaker,” the man, no woman could have a voice that deep, cut in, a hand appearing from the depths of his overly-large sleeves to grasp Sebastian's in a firm shake.

Undertaker? These people weren't even _trying_ anymore, were they?

“As I'm forced to travel often, if you ever need anything, feel free to go to Undertaker. He resides here year round, and his door is always open-”

“Only if you pay the toll, of course,” yet again cutting across Tanaka, the man laughed, arguably the most unhinged laughter Sebastian had heard to that day.

Tanaka chortled himself.

“Ah, of course. Our Undertaker here does insist you share a joke before you can enter the office. Ah well, just make him laugh and he'll help you with anything.”

A joke toll.

...a _joke_ toll.

Sebastian made a promise to himself as he walked back to the ward to never need Undertaker's help.

 

 

۞

 

 

“You should just switch with Ash permanently. He's such a bore to play with these days,” Ciel stated in way of greeting as Sebastian crossed into the dimly-lit leisure room, toying with a white pawn.

Not long after his introduction with Undertaker, Sebastian had been summoned to Angela's office and told he'd be covering for Ash again that night. If he hadn't been pleased at the prospect of finally getting his rematch, he would have been annoyed that she was only just telling him this after he'd already worked most of his regular shift. It was with only two hours sleep that he went back to the ward that night, but something told him that he wouldn't be feeling particularly exhausted for the time being.

“That's because you've had an actual challenge now. Naturally other opponents will be dull in comparison,” Sebastian replied with a smirk, sinking thankfully into the waiting armchair.

“Can you really call yourself a challenge when you've yet to win a single game?” Ciel replaced the pawn and gestured for Sebastian to make his first move. Sebastian didn't deem him with a response, too busy going over different strategies in his head. Ciel could almost see the cogs turning.

It wouldn't be for several hours that a word other than _checkmate_ would be spoken, and unfortunately for Sebastian, it was only Ciel's voice that spoke out. Knowing that the sun would be rising soon and that Angela would be coming to dismiss him, Sebastian's fervour for the game was replaced with the curiosity that had been building for over a week now.

Though he was a master of most things, alas he was beginning to question his chess playing abilities, Sebastian was particularly good at talking. It came with the charm he possessed, and made it easy for him to get answers from people who didn't want to give them, without them even knowing they'd done so. At least until it was too late.

“I met the other Chairman today,” Sebastian said, still moving the pieces in response to Ciel, but not really paying mind to the board any more.

Ciel hummed, snatching yet another fallen pawn from the board, “Undertaker?”

“Yes... I trust that's not his real name?”

“I wouldn't put it past him to have had it legally changed,” the boy said, shaking his head as he thought of the cloaked man, “Have you met the other one yet?”

Sebastian blinked. Now that he thought of it, there had been mention that there was more than two Chairmen of St. Victoria's.

“No, can't say I have. What's his name?”

Ciel just shrugged, wriggling in the chair to get more comfortable. Sitting all night was a real pain.

“Can't say I know. No one does, actually, not even Soma. It's one of those mysteries, but I got bored of trying to solve it a long time ago.”

Ah. A lead-in.

“Oh? So... exactly how long have you been here?”

Sebastian saw Ciel tense at the question, and scolded himself for not being subtle enough. Still, there was only so many ways of broaching the subject, and Ciel had handed him one on a silver platter. No doubt the boy would be careful not to do it again now that he'd already slipped up once.

Forcefully relaxing, Ciel answered after only a brief hesitation, “Must be... five years now, I think.” Seeing Sebastian open his mouth, no doubt to ask another question, Ciel continued, “I meant to ask; do you know if anyone has been taken to The Room today?”

Sebastian knew perfectly well that Ciel was trying to change the subject, and not very subtly either. Luckily for him, his companion had simply handed him yet another opportunity.

“I'm not too sure. I was out of the room at the time, meeting Undertaker as it were, but Agni told me there was an incident with Peter. I didn't see him the rest of the day... but while we're on the subject; what exactly is The Room?”

For a second, nothing but pure surprise was on Ciel's face, before a strange expression replaced it, half-way between a scowl and a smirk, as though his face wasn't sure what expression it wanted to show, and all Ciel said was, “It's your move.”

 

 

 

They played for another hour, another three victories for Ciel, before Sebastian's usually expansive patience fled him. He took hold of his King and lay it on its side across the chequered board, raising his eyes to meet Ciel's single questioning one, and threw caution to the wind.

“Why are you here?”

Ciel didn't look surprised at the question, but he did look confused. The confusion didn't last long, and then it was replaced by laughter. Not the types of laughs Sebastian had seen from him so far; the derisive snickers and half-smirks, not cruel but usually at other's expense. No, this was genuine, almost childish laughter. Unbridled and unrestrained.

Ciel was laughing at him.

“W-Why? You're asking me why?!” Gasping for breath, clutching his stomach as barks of laughter still spilled past his lips, “Because I'm mad!

Sebastian waited for the boy to regain his composure, until only the faintest whisper of a chuckle was escaping him, to argue, “You're the sanest person I've met here. Look, I _know_ what madness is. I've seen it! And you've not mad. Half the staff are, but you _aren't-”_

Another bark of laughter cut him off, “Don't you think you're being rather presumptuous? We've met two, three times? You're making the mistake of letting your guard down around me, Sebastian. In a place like this, that mistake can get you killed. You saw what happened to Ms. Hannah, didn't you?”

Ciel paused, and Sebastian looked ready to argue with him, but he raised a hand to stop any words that were forthcoming.

“I understand what you mean about the staff. Believe me, _more_ than half of them a certifiable. Now, you. _You_ are a sane man. For now, anyway. So it's only natural that a sane man, in an insane place, will look for sanity. But you're making a mistake in looking for it in me.”

The beeping of the system as a key-card was swiped alerted them both to Angela's approach.

Ciel rose from his seat and rounded the table, pausing by Sebastian's side. Leaning down, watching the doorway with a wary eye, he murmured, “Letting your guard down around me could get you killed, Sebastian. Don't let it happen again.” Without glancing back to see the effect his words were having on the dark-haired man, Ciel strode from the room. However, he paused in the doorway and glanced back with a smirk.

“Oh, by the way... Alois mentioned something about liking your eyes. You might want to watch that.”

 

 

۞


	5. Chapter 5

۞

 

**Chapter Five**

 

۞

 

 

After that night, Sebastian tried to force thoughts of Ciel from his mind. It was infuriating him. He understood his interest towards the boy before; Sebastian had never been beaten. It was only natural that he'd want to one-up the first person to do so. He tried to convince himself that it was still just that. That want for victory over the smug little-

But was it? It wasn't thoughts of getting games out of him any more. When he thought of Ciel Phantomhive, Sebastian thought of sanity. He'd been so sure of himself, so sure that he was right in thinking that Ciel was misplaced in the Institute. But would a mad person proclaim themselves mad? From Sebastian's experience, albeit that was restricted to T.V and books mostly, insane people never thought of themselves as such. That was part of the madness, after all, the surety that it was everyone else who was wrong, that they were the ones right.

Then again, Claude's words came back to him. That they're all there for a reason, that they'd try to trick him. He'd dismissed the warning simply because it came from a man he borderline-loathed, but did it ring true?

But if that was how it was, surely Ciel would have gone along with Sebastian's insistences of his sanity. Played on them, used them to manipulate Sebastian. That's certainly what Sebastian would have done in his position.

It made no sense.

Maybe... Maybe it was another game.

There was only one thing Sebastian could be completely sure of when it came to Ciel Phantomhive, and that was that he liked to play games. And he seemed very fond of making Sebastian his competitor.

Was this another game?

And was Sebastian _losing?_

“All right, come on!” Will barked at the group, passing his key-card over the electronic panel. The door to the ward opened, and the patients followed behind Will out of the ward. As today was Saturday, the patients were allotted a few hours in the gardens, a weekly treat. Something about the natural environment being soothing or whatever. Either way, how much damage could they do with grass?

Sebastian stood off to the side as they all filed out, waiting for the lingerers. Alois was tapping his foot impatiently on the floor, checking his imaginary watch, as an only-just conscious Ciel shuffled out of his room. Out of all the garden trips Sebastian had been at the Institute for, Ciel had never shown, but it seemed Alois' urging had done the miracle of pulling him out of bed during sunlight hours. Not for the first time, a niggling voice in the back of Sebastian's mind wondered just what the relationship between the two of them was. That voice was quickly dismissed, however, when Sebastian remembered it was none of his concern.

Ciel didn't look at him as he passed with the blond, and if Sebastian was a less observant man, he'd have thought it was out of indifference to him completely. Sebastian was an observant man, though, and he didn't miss that it was with a carefully constructed nonchalance that he was blanked. Since the night Sebastian had broached the subject with Ciel, there had been no more switches to the night shift, and on the rare occasions Ciel was hounded out of his room, no words passed between them.

All the more suspicious, surely. If Ciel really wasn't hiding anything then why the sudden silent treatment?

Or was this just another twist in the game Sebastian was being snaked in to?

 

 

۞

 

 

Ciel had disappeared.

No, Sebastian hadn't been watching him. No more than he had any of the other patients. Of course he _had_ to keep an eye on the boy; it would be unprofessional to not do so. It wasn't like he was keeping more of a watch on Ciel than the other patients, not at all. In fact, if he'd been properly watching him, he'd probably know where the brat had vanished to.

So he was simply doing his job when he left Will to monitor the rest of the patients and went in search of Ciel. For all he knew, the boy could be jumping the fence right that very minute. He was just being professional.

...Unfortunately, he had no _professional_ excuses for hiding in a bush when he did find Ciel, and realised the blue-haired boy was talking to someone.

“...said that she wanted to meet him! Something about wanting to know the genes or whatever,” Finnian exclaimed with a disbelieving laugh, yanking a weed from the dirt and tossing it in the growing pile behind him.

Ciel just shook his head, “A bit late in the game for that kind of feedback, Susan.”

Finny laughed, “That's what I said! Not like she could do anything about it if she _didn't_ like him, right? Anyway, speaking of babies, Lynette popped out another one-”

“But she already had an entire litter,” Ciel protested.

“Tell me about it. She should give one of them to the gay couple, since Gaby backed out-”

“You're going to have to backtrack, you've lost me.”

“Oh, right, that was last season...”

...Were they talking about some soap opera? Surely not.

“Oh! And Carlos can see again now!”

“How the hell is that possible? He was blind for five years!”

Sebastian's opinion of Ciel's tastes went down a notch or ten.

However, awful television choices aside, Sebastian had at least one question answered. Since the idea of Ciel merely playing a game with him had been planted, Sebastian had begun to wonder if maybe Ciel only acted that way around him, spoke so lucidly and more importantly, acted so rationally. If it was just a game, he probably didn't act that way around other people. What would be the need, when they weren't players? But now Sebastian knew. It was no act. Ciel acted just as sane with other people as he did with him.

One question answered, a dozen more raised. That seemed to be the pattern at St. Victoria's.

Now that Sebastian knew Ciel wasn't merely acting, his curiosity over just why the boy was in the Institution in the first place was stronger. And if Ciel wasn't going to tell him, Sebastian was just going to have to find out himself.

 

 

۞

 

 

Unfortunately, what seemed simple enough in one's mind generally ended up more complicated in reality. If Ciel wasn't going to tell him, there were two alternatives; find out from someone else who knew, or read Ciel's file.

Neither were appealing prospects.

If Sebastian started asking around, chances were high that word would get back to Ciel, which Sebastian didn't much fancy. It was bad enough that the kid had gotten under his skin without giving him the satisfaction of knowing it. Besides, it would raise the question of just why he wanted to know. Sure, he could just act like he was taking his job very seriously, but people might begin to draw their own theories about his curiosity.

Either way, it would lead to a very uncomfortable Sebastian.

If Sebastian read the file, the premise would be the issue. Actually reading the file, not a problem. Getting his hands on said file, _big_ problem. He knew for a fact that all patient files were in Claude's office. If he could somehow get in there when no-one else was, read the file and get out without anyone noticing his absence...

The night shift. If Angela asked him to cover for Ash on a Tuesday night, then when the Wednesday therapy group was going on, Sebastian could sneak into Claude's office and read the file without having to rush.

Sebastian smirked, a truly devious smirk, as the plan came together, choosing to ignore the flash of Grell's always-present camera.

 

 

۞

 

 

You know that feeling when you want someone to fall down a flight of stairs and they just bloody _won't?_ Yeah, that was Sebastian's current mind-set.

He watched with crushing disappointment as Ash reached the floor with no broken bones, not even a cracked skull. He briefly considered taking the matter into his own hands and inviting him into his room via Will's door, but derailed the train of thought. Too messy.

A week had passed since Sebastian's resolution to get his hands on Ciel's file, and no summons to Angela's office had been forthcoming. Figures. He supposed he could wait until the chance offered itself, but at the rate things were going, that could take forever. It was as though, now that Sebastian wanted to be put on the night shift more, the chance was being taken away from him.

“Sebastian? Coming down to dinner?” Agni asked, meeting him at the bottom of the stairs. He seemed in particularly high spirits, and Sebastian wondered what inadvertently-complimentary thing Soma had professed about him.

The two went down to the dining hall. It was a good thing that Agni was in such a good mood, really, considering Sebastian had decided to resort to option B.

“Agni, I've been wondering... How much do you know about Ciel Phantomhive?”

He'd tried to think of a subtler way to ask, but it was hardly as though Ciel generally came up in their conversations. Any mention of the boy would seem odd, so Sebastian reasoned he may as well be direct.

To his confusion, Agni didn't look at all perplexed at the mention of the one-eyed patient, he almost looked amused, “I thought you seemed to be quite taken with him.”

If Sebastian had been a cartoon, his jaw would have been scraping the grotty floor.

“...what?” he responded intelligently.

Agni just gave a conspiratorial smile. Sebastian half expected him to wink.

...No.

Just no.

There was no way that Agni seriously thought-  
“It's not like that!” Sebastian snapped, looking around shiftily to make sure no-one was overhearing. Agni blinked, looking around himself too, before smiling again as though he'd gotten in on a good joke.

“Ah. I get you. Of course it's not,” he said placatingly, almost patronizingly.

Sebastian was very glad he _wasn't_ a cartoon as the steam would have been shooting from his ears at this point.

“This is nothing like your little obsession with Soma! I'm simply curious, Agni, in a completely platonic way!” Sebastian insisted, only getting more and more riled up as Agni just nodded soothingly again, obviously humouring him.

“To answer your question, I don't actually know much about Ciel. He's Soma's friend, but even Soma doesn't know too much about him. The only solid fact I know is that he was brought here when he was eleven, by Dr. Faustus himself, I'm told. Saying that, I didn't work here then, so this is all hearsay. Ronald isn't necessarily the best source of information, considering _his_ source is the receptionist he sees off and on. Maybe if you ask Ronald directly, he'll be able to tell you more?”

Sebastian would be damned if he'd ask Ronald about the matter. If Agni had drew the conclusion that Sebastian's interest lay beyond simple curiosity, he could only imagine the reception his questions would receive from the teasing Orderly.

No, mere rumours and hearsay would not sate Sebastian's curiosity. He was going to have to take the bull by the horns. He was going to have to sneak into Claude Faustus' office.

 

 

۞

 

 

Grell came back to the world of the living gently, which naturally caused him to panic.

Usually, he was awoken by a strong hand throwing him bodily back into his own room. Masochist he was, he rather enjoyed waking that way. Nothing better than knowing you're in the arms of a strong, handsome man, even if those arms are tossing you like a Frisbee. But not today. Today, he awoke naturally, at the sound of an alarm clock, and the feel of Sebastian beside him.

Oh god, had he smothered him in his sleep accidentally?

“Sebby?”

Cracking an eye open, Grell chanced a look at the man beside him.

He was awake, crimson eyes meeting Grell's.

“Yes?” Sebastian replied.

“...Is something the matter?” Grell was getting worried now. Why wasn't Sebastian tearing him from his bed with passion disguised as annoyance?

“...Actually... I'm feeling a little sick.”

In Sebastian's defense, he wasn't to know that those words would induce World War III at St. Victoria's Asylum, courtesy of Grell Sutcliffe. Unfortunately, Will didn't share that sentiment, and still held a grudge over being awoken to frantic cries of _the bubonic plague has seized my darling Sebby!_ at half six in the morning.

An hour later, the entire staff was under the impression that Sebastian was bedridden with a mixture of plague, hepatitis and polio, and Ash had been and gone from his room, excusing Sebastian from work for the day.

Just as planned. If Sebastian had been an advocate of the maniacal laugh, he would have enjoyed a good one right as Ash hurried from the room with a medical mask covering his mouth and nose.

Sebastian gave it an hour and a half before ghosting from his room, positive that the staff were all going about their work by now, particularly the psychiatrists. As it was Wednesday, the group session would be going on in the ward, and Sebastian knew for a fact that Claude was making his rounds with individual patients, so his office would be completely empty.

Claude's office was as you would expect after meeting the man; completely void of personality. It was like he'd watched a few episodes of _Frasier_ and pieced together what he thought a psychiatrist's office should look like. There were no pictures of family or friends, no personal touches to the desk like ornaments or a Troll doll, even the books on the shelves that framed the room were so mundanely obligatory. Freud and Young were the main offenders, flanked by books on personality disorders bigger than your head. The type that could be used as a murder weapon. The colour scheme was suicide-inducing too; dull browns and blacks, the only variation being the fascinating variety of browns Claude had so expertly used. An obnoxiously large desk in front of a high-backed chair that just cried for a cat-stroking Bond villain, with a single filing cabinet breaking the army of bookcases.

Sebastian pressed the heavy oak door shut as quietly as possible, wincing at the dull click as the lock clicked in to place. Luckily, Claude's office door wasn't part of the key-pass system, so there would be no trace of Sebastian's stealthy visit on the system.

Sebastian only realised that he was staking this entire mission on the idea that the filing cabinet wouldn't be locked, and his non-existent respect for Claude became even more imaginary as he discovered it _wasn't_ locked.

How the hell had Claude even gotten his job?

It didn't take long to find Ciel's folder; it was the thinnest one.

Slipping it out of the cabinet, Sebastian sat back on his heels, opening the file. There was only a few sheets of paper inside. One was a simple details sheet; Ciel Phantomhive, currently sixteen, son of Vincent and Rachel Phantomhive (deceased), current guardian Angelina Durless. On a separate sheet, random facts like allergies, asthma and the such were detailed, and a list of visits to the Infirmary. Attached to that sheet was a single photo, an obviously younger Ciel, ragged and weary looking, bandages wrapped around the left of his face, visible eye avoiding the camera. The final sheet of paper was handwritten. There was only a paragraph on it.

_Patient D18, Ciel Phantomhive. Severely unstable, volatile and delusional. Denies all responsibility of The Fire. Refuses to associate with other patients, will not take part in discussion groups, vehemently rejects medication to the point of having to be restrained. High-risk patient. Rehabilitation, indefinite._

Sebastian read the words again and again, but it was the last two words that caught his attention.

Rehabilitation?

Sebastian knew perfectly well that some places like St. Victoria's centred around getting the patients back into normal society, on helping them gain a sense of stability, to help them shape a normal life. But Sebastian also knew that St. Victoria's was _not_ one of those places. It wasn't a stop along the path, it was the end of the road. Once you entered St. Victoria's, you didn't leave again.

Sebastian didn't have long to ponder on that, however, as voices suddenly sounded out from the corridor, heavy footfalls coming towards the door.

So Sebastian did the only thing he could think of; he jammed Ciel's folder back into the cabinet, kicked the drawer in, and jumped into Claude's coat closet.

Oh, in the name of all things cliché...

“It's enough already! He's been gone for ages!” Sebastian peered through the crack in the door, reaffirming his suspicion that that was Joker's voice he'd heard. The usual playful grin was absent, the friendly air the man always held about him completely dissipated. His hair, albeit never neat, was even messier than usual, a tell-tale sign that he'd been running his hands through it restlessly.

“Calm yourself,” Angela snapped, pale eyes narrowed at the frustrated man. Claude stood silently behind her, leaning back on his desk, watching the patient with veiled eyes.

“No, I will not be calm! What do you think you're playing at?!” Joker exploded, veritably baring his teeth at the woman. She visibly bristled, Sebastian could almost see her haunches rise.

“I am doing my job, boy. Little Peter misbehaved, so he must be appropriately reprimanded-”

“And it's been over a week! Even if he was in the wrong, he's atoned for it!”

That was apparently the straw that broke the camel's back for Angela, who raised herself up as tall as she could go, much taller than Sebastian had thought her, towering over Joker.

“ _That is not for you to judge! I am the judge here! I will decide if he has atoned!”_ she shrieked in his face, and Sebastian's respect for Joker rose as he didn't even flinch, just looked at her like she was dirt on his shoe. 

“And if your opinion of atoning is more than he can handle?” Joker had gone dangerously quiet now, the living epitome of the calm before the storm.

And Angela's anger disappeared, the usual relaxed smile returning to her lips, “That is none of your concern. We are no-where near being done with little Peter yet.”

The storm erupted, and Joker lunged for her, all snarling teeth and blazing eyes, hand going straight for her throat. Angela didn't move, didn't flinch away from the livid teen about to completely destroy her.

She had no need to.

His fingers brushed her neck, and Joker was flung to the floor, the impact knocking all the air from his lungs. Claude stood over him, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, not a hair out of place. He looked down at the wheezing Joker, and the emotionless mask cracked for a second, just a second, long enough for Sebastian to see the faintest flicker of amusement in those amber eyes.

Hatred rose in the watching Sebastian, a searing flame, burning like acid, and he almost darted out of the closet. Not to protect Joker, he wasn't nearly a decent enough man to take it upon himself to needlessly defend others, but to knock that smug look of sinister glee from the bespectacled man.

The office door burst open, slamming into the bookshelf behind it and knocking hardbacks to the floor with a thump. The triplets appeared beside Claude, two of them taking one of Joker's arms each and wrenching them behind his back until he let out a sharp cry of pain, the remaining one accepting a syringe from Claude. Joker struggled violently as the triplet not restraining him neared, kicking out his legs and trying to pull free from their vice-like grip.

“Do you really think you'll get away with all this?! Fuck! And you say we're mad!” Joker screamed as the syringe came closer to his neck.

The words ceased abruptly as soon as the needle broke skin, and Joker slumped in their arms. He wasn't unconscious, Sebastian could see that. His eyes remained open, but they dulled, a glassy sheen to them. It almost looked like he was peacefully daydreaming, but his ruffled hair and rumpled clothes were evidence to the struggle that had taken place only seconds before.

Sebastian watched, his mind blank, as the triplets dragged Joker silently from the room, Angela following behind. Claude flicked imaginary lint from his jacket and turned to follow, only to freeze in his steps.

You know that feeling when you're sort-of asleep, but you feel like you're falling? Like the world has suddenly been pulled out from beneath your feet?

That was the feeling Sebastian got when Claude frowned down at the ajar drawer of the filing cabinet.

Claude knelt down and pulled the drawer fully open. He looked down, eyes intent, taking in everything, every placement. Sebastian scarcely breathed, waiting for the moment Claude would pull Ciel's file out of the drawer and  _know._ Know who and what and when, know why more than Sebastian knew why at that moment. 

Today, though... today seemed to be Sebastian's lucky day. Claude either didn't see anything amiss or pretended not to, simply slamming the drawer shut and stalking from the room.

It wouldn't be for another half an hour that Sebastian finally felt it was safe to leave the closet and return to his room.

 

 

۞

 


	6. Chapter 6

۞

 

**Chapter Six**

 

۞

 

 

It was too quiet.

He usually loved the silence, but there was something _wrong_ in the air, something that pulled Ciel from his thankfully dreamless sleep. The usual cacophony of raucous laughter and voices, his usual alarm clock, was not there.

With a knot forming in his stomach, Ciel threw back the sheets and dragged himself out of bed. Apprehension grew as he neared his bedroom door, quietly pulling it open and glancing out.

Beast was the first one he saw. Proud and fierce Beast, with her face in her hands and sobs racking her body. Her curly hair was a matted mess, her clothes obviously having been threw on in a hurry. No sound escaped her though, there was still enough of her usual self about that she kept the screams locked away.

Wendy was curled up against her side, tear-stained face in the larger but not older woman's lap. Her deceptively small body was trembling violently, and Ciel watched her right hand clench and unclench, as though constantly forgetting that the hand she always held when things got bad was no longer in her reach.

Dagger knelt before them, and although Ciel had always thought him brash and irritating, respect grew for the boy, man, as he restrained his own tears expertly. He petted Wendy's hair soothingly with one hand, gripping his beloved sister's knee with the other, and whispered lies of comfort, not convincing them or himself.

Neither three of them noticed Ciel in his doorway, too absorbed in their grief, but Freckles, standing off to the side and staring at nothing, glanced up to meet his gaze. She wasn't crying, there were no signs that she had either. Her eyes weren't red, her cheeks weren't blotchy, she wasn't a sniffling mess. Perhaps it would have been better if she had been crying, because that sheer blankness she had on her face then sent a chill down Ciel's spine. He was so used to the warm smiles she gave him, the dirty laughs that made her blush when she realised they were coming from her, and the bright eyes. The stark absence of any emotion was _not_ Freckles.

The girl abandoned her post and came towards him, fisting her sweatshirt, wetting her dry lips.

“Hey, Smile,” she croaked, and Ciel wondered if maybe he'd been wrong, that she had cried, cried so much the tears simply dried up.

“Hello, Freckles,” he replied obligingly. He wasn't sure what to do. What was the protocol for these situations? People generally hugged at these times, but they both knew he wasn't capable of offering her that sort of comfort, and she would never ask it from him. He considered asking her into his room, not sure why, was that what people did? Offer privacy? But she had her own room for that if it was what she wanted.

Ciel shifted from foot to foot restlessly, waiting for Freckles to offer some sort of explanation for what was going on. He knew that much, the rule was to never ask, if something was amiss you'd be told. Unspoken and unwritten, but a rule none-the-less. Freckles didn't say anything though, just stood before him uncertainly, and so Ciel bit the bullet.

Reaching out, he gingerly took one of her hands in his. He may not be able to embrace the girl, but he could bring himself to do this much.

She blinked down at her hand clasped in his, looking for all the world like she'd just been shook awake, then laced their fingers together. And then the smile was back, not the usual beaming grin, it was unsteady and ready to break at any minute, but still a smile.

She took a deep breath, exhaling loudly, and began, “Joker went to see Angela.”

Ciel didn't need to hear any more, honestly didn't need more than just Joker's name to know what happened, but felt that Freckles needed to tell him. She'd understand herself what was going on only if she spoke the words.

“It was only last night... we can't know for sure, I guess... Hell, he could come burstin' through the door any second now and laugh at us gettin' all worked up over nothin'...”

She trailed off, eyes turning towards the ward door hopefully, as though Joker was simply waiting outside for his cue. Ciel tightened his hold on her hand, drawing her attention back from the hopeless scenario, and waited for her to continue.

“...Y'heard 'bout Peter, right?”

Ciel nodded. The night after Sebastian had mentioned to him about Peter, Freckles herself had told him anyway. Peter had always had such a short temper, and was dangerously possessive of Wendy. An awfully bad mix, especially with Wendy's meek nature always causing Peter to think some terrible slight had been committed against her every time she looked a little down. Usually they managed to keep him from doing anything more than shouting, but Dagger and Jumbo had been on the other side of the room, and Joker had been in a session with Claude. Of course Grey provoked him, as always, and Peter hadn't even managed to draw blood with his attack, but no-one cared about that. Alls that mattered was the nuts-and-bolts of the situation; a psychiatrist talking to a patient, the patient attacked, end of.

Ciel frowned.

“That... was a while back.”

Freckles finally looked back to Ciel's face, “A month ago. Peter's been gone a whole month, Smile.”

Ciel felt like he'd been doused in cold water. Surely that couldn't be right. He would have noticed, _definitely_ would have noticed if someone had been in The Room that long.

He must have exchanged all of two words with Peter since the small man had arrived at St. Victoria's, and they'd probably only have been his being warned to keep away from Wendy or something equally pointless, yet Ciel suddenly felt the urge to be sick.

“We've all been tryin' to find out when they'd be bringin' him back, but no one would tell us nothin'. Joker got really annoyed last night and just got outta his chair and said he was goin' to get Peter. And he said it in that way he does, y'know?”

Ciel did know. Joker spent so much time living up to his namesake that people forgot how serious the man could be when he had to. When the situation called for it, however, Joker stood up and took care of whatever he had to take care of. Ciel could just picture him, usual grin replaced by a stern frown, threading his fingers through his wild orange hair, informing everyone _I'm going to go fetch Peter, back in five,_ in the same way you'd say the sky is blue or Bard's cooking sucked.

“So 'course we all believed him... but...”

“...He hasn't come back,” Ciel finished for her as she seemed visibly incapable of saying the words, clutching his hand so tight it hurt. Freckles nodded jerkily, taking a shaky breath, willing away the tightness in her throat and the burning behind her eyes.

She couldn't cry, she just couldn't. Not when Beast was breaking, and Wendy was broken, and Dagger was being so much stronger than them all. And, oh god, she'd have to tell Jumbo when he finally woke up and that would be _too damn much to take._

Ciel watched as the girl before him, one of the few people he could truly consider a friend, held herself together with nothing but the fracturing determination to not cry.

And all he could do was squeeze her hand a little tighter.

 

 

۞

 

 

He'd gone back in to his room, couldn't help but feel he was intruding upon their grief.

Ciel liked Joker.

Well, as much as Ciel generally liked people, anyway.

Joker was loud and his teasing was annoying, he always stole Ciel's favourite chair and gave him stupid nicknames like _Smile_ that caught on with everyone from patients to staff, yet...

Joker was kind. When he'd first met Ciel, he'd given him the brightest smile Ciel had ever seen and invited Ciel to come sit with him and his friends. Ciel had, of course, vehemently refused, and with a poisonous glare to boot, but from that day on, Joker was not deterred and continued to invite the anti-social boy to join the rest of them.

Joker was generous. In a place like St. Victoria's, it was everyone for themselves, or so Ciel liked to think. Joker did not share that sentiment, though. Whenever he got his hands on something, be it an insignificant think like a pen or something interesting like a book, he shared it with everyone else. And, the time he'd managed to sneak some sweets from Ronald's pocket and saw Ciel's eye reluctantly drawn to them, without a seconds hesitation, he gave every last one to the boy.

Joker was protective. Despite the dog-eat-dog mentality of the Institute, Joker had taken each and every one of his fellow patients under his wing. Joker wasn't that much older than everyone else, and no doubt he had his fair share of problems- he was there after all. Yet, whenever someone came back weary and tired from a treatment, in pain in every sense of the word, Joker was the first one at their sides, supporting them and taking them to their rooms. Ciel remembered after one particularly vile treatment of Claude's, when he'd become so sick that he couldn't even breathe, Joker had sat at his bedside, _not touching never touching,_ and told him stupid stories about some Piper's son until he'd finally been able to draw breath without it hurting.

...Suddenly Ciel found his room stifling, the solitude that he always sought smothering, and strode out of the door again. It had been an hour or two since he'd spoken with Freckles, and Jumbo had finally arisen. Joker's usual group were sat around him, trying to explain to the still half-asleep man what was happening, and Ciel steered clear of them.

He made his way over to his usual armchair, pulling his feet up under him. Jumbo let out a wordless yell and jumped to his feet, sending the coffee table in front of him over on it's side, and Dagger implored for him to sit down and try to be calm.

It was just as smothering out here. He wanted to go outside. It felt like someone had his windpipe in their fist, tightening their hold as the seconds crawled on. He clenched his eye shut and counted slowly back from one hundred, keeping his breaths slow and steady. The last thing he needed was for _that_ annoyance to start up again.

“Care for some company?” an only vaguely familiar voice enquired politely. Opening his eye again, he saw Drocell standing before him.

A sense of unease washed over Ciel.

Obviously taking Ciel's silence as consent, Drocell pulled over a chair and sat down. A scraping from his other side announced the arrival of Drocell's shadow, Snake.

Ciel glanced between the two in suspicion, the smothered feeling growing into sheer claustrophobia. They had him cornered, and he damn well didn't like it.

“What do you want?” Ciel demanded, uncurling his feet from beneath him and settling them on the floor.

Snake and Drocell shared a look before Snake turned back to Ciel.

“We are in trouble.” His voice was so quiet, even sitting only inches apart, Ciel had to strain to hear him. The white-haired man looked over to the group of people in the middle of the room, and there was visible pain on his usually blank face. Drocell rested a hand on his knee, the most comfort he could offer when others were present.

“Let's not beat around the bush; we have a request of you, Ciel.”

Ciel's eye narrowed, lips pressing together in a tight line.

“And what exactly would that be?” he responded, tone making it perfectly clear that any answer wasn't remotely welcome.

Snake hadn't looked away from the others, and didn't seem prone to, so Drocell took over.

“Something has changed. Snake and I have been discussing it for a while now, how different things have seemed, but _this..._ For Peter to have been gone so long, I reason he must have been killed.”

He said it in a detached way, but fear spiked in those striking violet eyes.

“And now they have taken Joker. We do not want Joker to die, not when there is a simple way to prevent it from happening. Deny it if you choose, but you don't want Joker to die either. He is a friend to all of us, and he has been a very good friend to you, even if you weren't responsive to his attempts-”

“Get to the point,” Ciel snapped, uncomfortable with where the conversation was leading.

“Your room is the only one that is always open,” Snake stated, finally tearing his gaze from his friends and looking imploringly at Ciel.

Ciel frowned.

“Yes. And?”

“Your patience is running thin, so I shall just come out with it; your door is always open and we have noticed that you appear to have some sort of relationship with the new Orderly. We want you to get him to open the ward door for you and to get Joker back. Once Joker is back inside the ward, no-one will be able to say anything, for it would arouse suspicion on their actions, and namely, raise the question of where Peter is.”

“Simple,” Snake ended, and if Ciel didn't know better, he'd have sworn the white-haired man was almost smirking.

Ciel looked from one to the other, mind racing. The two watched, trying to see what effects their words had on the boy. Just as Ciel opened his mouth to reply, however, an excited shout interrupted him.

“Ciel! Is your room on fire? You've actually come out!” Soma exclaimed with a vibrant grin, bounding over, unaware of the sombre atmosphere in the room. Drocell and Snake had managed to disappear in the split-second Ciel had been distracted by Soma, and when he glanced around, they weren't in the room.

 

 

۞

 

 

Surely his eyes were deceiving him. As he lived and breathed, Ciel Phantomhive was in the leisure room in the sunlight hours, without having been dragged from his room by Alois or tempted through the door by a candy-toting Soma.

Sebastian crossed into the ward, sliding his key-card back into his pocket. No sooner had he stepped into the room than Ciel's head snapped up, their eyes meeting. If the past few days had been any indication, Sebastian expected Ciel to look away, pretend he hadn't seem him, pointedly ignore him. Instead, he rose from the armchair and began over to Sebastian.

“Play with me,” was the first thing Ciel said to him after days of being blanked, no _hello'_ s or _how are you'_ s. Not even a comment on the weather. He didn't wait for Sebastian to answer, just strode back over to his chair.

The board had already been set up.

Sebastian, irked at the boy's surety that he would immediately follow when told like a dog, walked the other way, straightening tables and chairs, sharing words with the other patients. He purposefully avoided looking over to Ciel, though could feel the burn of the other's eye on him.

The patients seemed awfully quiet today.

Sebastian didn't have to think hard to know why. Joker's absence was almost painful in its obviousness.

“...I trust you've been well,” a begrudging voice bit out. Ciel's arms were folded across his chest, legs crossed, and he didn't look amused.

So he did have _some_ manners.

Sebastian granted him a smile.

“I can't complain.”

“I heard you were ill yesterday,” Ciel replied, purposefully glancing from Sebastian to the empty chair in front of him in a not-so-subtle hint.

“Oh, just a touch of influenza. Nothing to worry about.” Sebastian didn't sit, rather enjoying the mounting annoyance in the boy's face and his not at all successful attempts to mask it.

At least until Ciel smirked. Warning bells rang.

“Glad to hear it. If you were too ill, there'd be no chance of you getting all the way down there.”

_Don't take the bait, don't take the bait, don't take the fucking ba-_

“Down where?”

Hook, line and sinker.

Ciel gestured to the chair across from him, arching a fine brow, the smirk positively dripping smugness now.

“I find it's rude to be seated when speaking to someone standing.”

Sebastian was about to suggest he could stand up too, but curiosity got the better of him, so he relented and sat.

“Down where?” he repeated. Ciel moved his white Knight.

“Your move.”

Funny how Sebastian had been so eager for games of chess with the boy. Now a game was the last thing he wanted, but the only thing Ciel was offering. Loathe to do so, Sebastian thoughtlessly shoved one of his Pawns two spaces, “Down where?”

Ciel simply hummed, moving another piece.

This continued for several minutes, possibly the longest minutes Sebastian had ever lived, and he was getting dangerously close to simply throwing the board aside and grabbing Ciel by the shirt, shaking the answer from him.

The worst thing was that he knew he was playing right into the brat's hands.

Just as he was about to demand _down where_ for the umpteenth time, Ciel leaned over the chessboard, a finger beckoning Sebastian to do the same, and murmured so quietly it was as though he was wary of even himself hearing the words, “Do you still want to know what The Room is?”

 

 

۞

 

 

Of course, Sebastian had jumped at the chance.

Of course, Ciel hadn't told him a damn thing.

“ _Next time you're on the Night Shift,”_ was all he had said before disappearing into his room. Sebastian had considered following him in there, but Agni had caught his gaze, and that knowing look in his eye had mortified Sebastian enough to be glad he wasn't near the apparent object of 'affection'. 

As the most cliché of chances would have it, Sebastian didn't have to wait long for said chance, as he was summoned to Angela's office only four days later. Figures he couldn't have had that luck when he'd wanted to read Ciel's folder.

Perhaps it all worked out for the best, though. If he hadn't have been in Claude's office that day, he wouldn't have seen what transpired between Joker and the staff. Joker, who had yet to return to the ward.

As usual, Ciel was already waiting in the dimly-lit room. This time, however, there was no chessboard waiting. Over his usual clothes, Ciel had a thick jacket wrapped around him.

Unease flooded Sebastian, and he paused in the doorway of the leisure room. Rather than any usual greetings, Sebastian stated, “You're not just going to  _tell_ me what The Room is, are you?”

Ciel smirked, the smirk that Sebastian was beginning to associate with his pride taking a severe beating.

“We could banter for a while, but I'd rather not waste time. It's already been four days too long. I'll just get to the point.”

Ciel rose from his chair, zipping the jacket closed and burying his hands in the pockets.

“I need you to open the door for me. Once you do, I'll take you down to The Room. Joker is there... what's left of him anyway. We're going to get Joker and bring him back here. We get Joker back; you not only find out what The Room is, you get to see it first-hand. It's a win-win scenario. What do you say?”

Ciel looked up at Sebastian, standing at his side, expectant.

“I'll be fired,” was the first thing that came to Sebastian's mind.

Well, the third.

The first was that, damn, the brat made the single most idiotic request Sebastian had ever heard sound reasonable.

The second was that he was  _really_ tempted.

Ciel snorted, “Nonsense. Listen, Sebastian. They do things in that room, things that cannot get out to people with the power to stop it. I'm not entirely sure even the Chairman know what goes on in that room. I won't lie- the use of your key will be registered on the system on every door we go through. They will  _know_ exactly who it is who freed Joker. However... have you ever noticed? There is not a single camera in the entire Institute.”

Ciel gestured to the room they were in, and Sebastian followed the unspoken command, glancing around the walls, every corner, for a little red light or a shiny lens.

That couldn't be right. There had to be cameras. Safety, protocol, it was just the rules! How else did they monitor the patients when the Orderlies weren't about?

“Think, Sebastian! Why do you think that is?” Ciel was growing fervent now, the need for Sebastian to _understand_ desperate. 

Sebastian thought back on what Ciel had said moments before, that they were doing things that couldn't get back to people with power to stop it, and understood.

“No cameras mean no evidence to whatever it is they're doing,” Sebastian muttered, more to himself than to Ciel. Ciel still heard, though, and sighed. In relief, presumably.

“Exactly. I knew there was more to your head than hair products. Now, what do you say? Will you open the door for me, Sebastian?”

Even though the question was simple and Ciel didn't meant the words in any double-way, Sebastian hesitated, the simple question knocking him blind for a minute. If he opened that door for Ciel, he was taking a side. Even though he believed with every fibre of his being that Ciel was sane, he couldn't get past the fact that the side he was taking was that of an institutionalized person. The second he opened that door, Ciel could do anything. He could run, escape, find something sharp and attack Sebastian, hurt himself, hurt other people,  _anything._

If he opened that door, what else was he opening the door to? To open that door, Sebastian would have to place complete trust in the one-eyed boy staring up at him, trust that he'd never placed in anyone else before. Trust that he couldn't merely give for that night then take back once they'd retrieved Joker, if that was sincerely what was going to happen and wasn't an elaborate trap by the boy. That trust would rest with Ciel the rest of Sebastian's life.

Sebastian jolted when he felt something wrap around his wrist, and glanced down. A strip of cloth, torn from the hem of Ciel's shirt, was knotted around his wrist, the other end tied around Ciel's own thin wrist, binding them together.

Ciel glanced back up at Sebastian when he was satisfied at the tightness of their bindings, and frowned, “This comes off the second we're back here. I do not like being tied up... I won't attempt to run, Sebastian.”

Had his thoughts been so clearly plastered across his face?

Ciel fell silence once he'd said his piece, and Sebastian could have sworn there was a slight trembling in his bound hand, his face paler than it's usual white.

With the voice in the back of his mind shouting, screaming, that he was going to regret this, this was a mistake, he was playing  _right_ into the mad boy's hands, Sebastian pulled his key-card from his pocket and pressed it over the electronic panel.

The ward door swung open soundlessly, and Ciel, leading Sebastian by their joined wrists, stepped out of the ward.

 

 

۞

 

 

Ciel Phantomhive was no hero.

Even as a child, he'd held no affection for the masked men, clad in spandex, with capes whipping behind them in the imaginary wind. That was more Lizzie's cup of tea. He could never fathom why they did the things they did, saved the whiny damsels and beat the two-dimensional 'villains', yet never taking their masks off to receive the glory of their actions. What was the sense in risking ones life and getting nothing in return?

Ciel liked Joker. Ciel, although resolutely ignoring the inner-voice that said this, wanted no harm to come to Joker. Ciel was going to save Joker from The Room.

Ciel's reasons for doing this was most certainly not for playing the hero.

When Drocell and Snake had cornered him and implored Ciel to rescue Joker, every part of Ciel, even the part that didn't want Joker to be hurt, was saying  _no, none of my concern, everyone for themselves._ But then they'd said something that fascinated him.

“ _We've noticed you appear to have some sort of relationship with the new Orderly.”_

They played chess, occasionally they spoke of things other than chess, and Ciel would admit that Sebastian's company didn't make him want to drill a pencil into his ear just for some peace and quiet like other peoples did.

Did that constitute a relationship?

Irrelevant. What fascinated Ciel was that Drocell and Snake seemed under the opinion that Ciel could get Sebastian to open the ward door for him.

They had not been wrong.

While Ciel fully intended to retrieve Joker from The Room and bring him back to the ward, that wasn't the reason he'd opted to perform the rescue mission. Ciel was doing this simply to see just how much power he had over Sebastian.

After all, if Ciel could get Sebastian to open one door, given time, what was to stop him from opening any door?

 

 

۞

 

 

St. Victoria's Institution was a far more complex building than Sebastian had ever imagined.

They'd been walking for what must have been at least several hours now, neither saying a single word. There had been endless corridors, steep stairs, and they'd reached a point in the building where the air had that dirty and damp smell that reminded Sebastian of the Underground Tube stations in London.

Were they underground?

Sebastian almost asked Ciel, but stopped himself. He wasn't sure if it was because Ciel was focusing on getting them to wherever it was they needed to go, or if it had something to do with the now quite violent shakes racking Ciel's body, but the boy had fallen completely silent. Sometimes he didn't even seem like he was breathing.

Sebastian was a little disappointed to be honest. What with all the sinister build-up over the past few weeks, he'd been expecting a more horror-movie style place to unfold before them. Although the dilapidated state of the building would probably earn a few screams from real-estaters, there was nothing truly fear-inspiring before them. No rats scuttled past, no moss grew on the walls, no shadows without a source followed their progress into the lower levels of St. Victoria's.

“...I think we're here,” Ciel finally spoke up, and even though they both knew there was no way someone could hear them, he whispered. They'd finally reached the bottom of the longest staircase yet, and it opened up to a single corridor. Unlike its predecessors, the corridor was immaculate. No dust, no grime, not even a cobweb.

It was a well-used hall.

At the end of the hall was a single iron door. An industrial grey, without a plaque or any indication to what it led to. Not that anyone who reached it needed a plaque to know.

Sebastian nodded, and waited for the boy to move, but he didn't. He was still trembling, and he stared towards the door with a glassy eye, face eerily blank.

“...Ciel?” Sebastian reached out a hand towards him, and Ciel came back to himself, side-stepping the outstretched hand without a blink, pulling Sebastian towards the door.

Sebastian didn't question it, too busy focusing on the mix of building apprehension and excitement. He didn't need to be asked to pull out his key-card again, and he passed it over the panel on the wall with a fumbling haste.

The panel beeped.

“Ready?” Ciel breathed, unbound hand resting on the iron door.

“Yes,” Sebastian responded without a hairsbreadth hesitation.

Ciel threw the door open.

 

 

۞

 

 

Mirrors.

Floor, ceiling, walls, every last speck of The Room was one huge mirror. Every way he turned, Sebastian's own bewildered face stared back at him. There were no torture devices, no suspicious dark stains, nothing but mirrors.

Well, almost nothing but mirrors.

In the far corner of the room, so huddled over on himself that Sebastian had missed him on first inspection, was Joker. The curled-up ball shuddered, choked sobs tearing from not visible lips, heart-breaking in every way, more so when you knew _who_ they were coming from.

Ciel, who had froze the second the door open and clenched his eye shut, shook himself back and darted over to Joker, dragging Sebastian along the mirrored floor. The blue-haired boy drew to a halt a few feet from Joker, and knelt down, watching his fellow patient intently.

They were close enough now that they could decipher words in the sobs.

“ _W-Won't ever ag-gain- don't hurt me... p-please... just kill me already...”_

More than Joker, however, Sebastian couldn't tear his eyes from Ciel.

Ciel's stony face softened impossibly, and Sebastian had presumed that the default frown was as close to neutral as he could be. Gingerly, as though second-thinking the action every inch he took, Ciel extended his free hand towards the shuddering boy before him. He crouched down further, making himself as small as possible, as least intimidating as possible, and softly spoke, “Joker. It's alright. I'm taking you back.”

And Joker slowly uncurled from the fetal position he'd been in, lifting his tear-stained face warily, just enough to see who was speaking to him, and his eyes widened. With a watery hiccup, he exclaimed, “Smile!” and threw himself into Ciel, burying his face in Ciel's chest and crying like a child.

Bile rose in Sebastian's throat, “Fucking _hell._ ”

Dangling uselessly from Joker's body, a completely skeletal right arm. Dried blood still remained on the glistening ivory bones, chunks of flesh hanging by a thread, and the crook of his elbow marked the spot where whatever had burned away the flesh ended. The tear was jagged, the bone jutting out of the bloodied stump.

The blood smeared across Ciel's jacket, and he looked away with disgust. Not disgust at Joker, though, and although he didn't wrap his arms around the wearied and injured man, he didn't push him away either.

Sebastian knelt beside Ciel, untying their wrists. He noticed with interest that the second his wrist was unbound, Ciel's trembles subsided. Although a useless bandage, Sebastian still wrapped it around the stump of Joker's arm, resisting the urge to flinch away when his fingers brushed the smooth and exposed bone.

Joker jolted when Sebastian started tying the bandage, eyes darting to Sebastian's face, and he dragged himself away, left hand wrapping around Ciel's wrist and pulling him away too. Ciel gently, far more gently than Sebastian could have ever expected him to be, removed Joker's hand.

“It's alright. He won't hurt you. He's here to help.”

And Joker immediately ceased trying to escape the Orderly.

“He's going to pick you up, Joker. Don't panic, and don't knock that arm,” Ciel announced, looking to Sebastian. Sebastian complied without question, hooking an arm beneath Joker's knees and another behind his back, hefting him up and against his chest. Ciel moved the mutilated arm so that it was resting unharmed against Joker's stomach.

And then they strode from The Room, the iron door swinging shut behind them.

 

 

۞


	7. Chapter 7

۞

 

**Chapter Seven**

 

۞

 

 

The walk back to the ward was indescribable. Tense couldn't begin to cover it.

Ciel once again led the way, his usual aloof composure returning the larger the distance between them and The Room grew. Sebastian kept having to readjust Joker in his arms, the not-small man continually struggling and trying to reach out to Ciel's back, throwing Sebastian distrustful glances. Sometimes it was like Joker didn't even recognise him, and Ciel kept having to explain that Sebastian was helping him before Joker would quieten again.

Eventually the injured man fell into a fitful slumber, and they could quicken their pace.

They were more than half-way back when Ciel sighed, “Go ahead.”

A part of Sebastian was disturbed that the boy could read him so well after so little time. A bigger part was just relieved to be able to ask what he was certain was an unwelcome question.

“Have you ever been in The Room?”

Of course, he was rather proud to admit that he was learning, at least a little, to be able to read Ciel too. The way the already little amount of colour in Ciel's face drained away, the way his fingers clenched into fists, the hesitation as he carefully thought his answer out, Sebastian spotted them all.

“...I was. Once, a long time ago,” the one-eyed boy eventually answered after much deliberation.

“What did you do?”

To that, Ciel gave a derisive snort.

“I don't even remember. I don't remember why they put me in there, how long I was there, or even what they did to me. All I can remember was that it was Dr. Faustus who came and got me out. It was the only time I was glad to see the creepy son-of-a-bitch.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Ciel frowned. Between Alois and Freckles, he was picking up a right dirty mouth.

Sebastian snickered, somehow pleased that his companion shared the same sentiment about the bespectacled man. Humour left him quickly as he contemplated his next question.

“Why... mirrors? It certainly wasn't what I was expecting.”

Ciel glanced back at him, eyebrows raised.

“Really? What exactly were you expecting?”

“I'm not sure, to be honest. Spiked coffins, stretching racks, thumbscrews, that kind of thing.”

“Don't be silly. They keep those in the basement.”

Smirking like that, it was hard to tell whether Ciel was joking or not. The boy certainly did seem to have an odd sense of humour.

“Think of it this way, Sebastian. When you look in the mirror, what do you see?”

“Is this a trick question?”

“Yes, but answer it anyway.”

“Alright. I see my reflection.”

Ciel nodded, “And how long do you usually look in the mirror?”

“Usually just in passing, I suppose.”

“So you only look long enough to check your hair, then.”

Again with the hair cracks. Just because Sebastian actually _brushed_ his hair, unlike a certain someone.

“I suppose so.”

“Next time you look in the mirror, Sebastian, I suggest you look a little longer. The longer you're forced to look at yourself, the more you begin to see... and you don't always like what you see,” Ciel finished, his voice trailing off into silence. He looked thoughtful, and Sebastian held his tongue against any other questions. It was rare enough the boy answered any to begin with, so he decided to not push his luck. If he had to take a guess, Sebastian figured that Ciel was thinking about what he saw when he looked at himself, and he didn't look pleased.

 

 

۞

 

 

Sebastian slept on a bed of nails the next few days.

He'd let a patient out of the ward.

He'd gone behind his superiors backs and taken another patient out of his punishment.

The use of his keycard was registered on every last door they'd gone through, and there had been many.

Yet, regardless of his worries, nothing happened.

When they'd gotten back to the ward, morning well on its way, Ciel had instructed Sebastian to take Joker into his room. After Joker was settled into Ciel's bed, Ciel had virtually dragged Sebastian back to the leisure room and set up the chessboard. However, he didn't put the pieces in their starting positions, but scattered all across the board. Shortly after, Angela had arrived. Her gaze had lingered a second too long on Ciel's shirt, more specifically the tear at the bottom, and Sebastian's heart had jumped up his throat. Beneath the table, Ciel's foot pressed against his own, a wordless command to act natural. Angela didn't say a word, greeting them both with her usual icy smile, and everything had gone on like natural.

Sebastian returned to his regular shift the next day, almost running to the ward. To his surprise, everything was _normal._ Normal for St. Victoria's anyway. Joker was sitting on the couch, all laughing and all grinning as always, surrounded by the rest who didn't fuss over him, just bantered as they always did. His mutilated arm was hidden beneath the long sleeve of his shirt, but the skeletal hand peeked out from the cuff. No one stared at it, patient nor staff, and Joker himself didn't appear bothered that one of his hands was nothing more than dead weight.

The normality of the situation was enough to drive Sebastian himself mad.

Relief came with the arrival of Ciel, shockingly emerging from his room entirely of his own free will. Freckles' head snapped up at the creak of his door and their eyes met, and silently she mouthed _thank you, Smile._ That was enough for Sebastian to know that that night _had_ happened, regardless of how much every damn person there was pretending it hadn't.

Ciel approached him with that self-imposing swagger, a slight smirk playing about his lips, “Fancy a game?” However, much to Sebastian's surprise, it was not a chessboard he held in his hands, but a deck of cards.

“Gin rummy?” Sebastian suggested, following Ciel over to their usual chairs, away from prying ears.

“Nonsense. We play poker, it's the only decent card game,” Ciel responded, tone almost offended at the prospect. Of course, Ciel dealt, and of course, Sebastian lost spectacularly. It was almost impressive just how good Ciel was at the game, putting even his prowess at chess to shame.

“There was a heartfelt reunion yesterday, when Joker woke up. They all congregated in my room, and that bloody Dagger kept pawing at my stuff, then they all started bawling. I had to leave lest I threw up,” Ciel stated in a murmur, shooting a glare in Dagger's direction.

“What a heart-warming sentiment, Ciel.”

“I can't stand it when people cry. It's annoying and the noise is just... urgh,” apparently there wasn't an adequate enough word for Ciel's repulsion at the show of emotion.

Sebastian snickered.

It occurred to Sebastian that night that he hadn't handed in his two-weeks notice. When his suspicions of the Institute began, a voice in the back of his head whispered that he should get out of there before it was too late. Seeing what was done to Joker, remembering how bedraggled Alois had been when he'd returned from The Room, and Ciel's own loss of composure at the prospect of being near the place, just imagining what had been done to them was enough to confirm his suspicions and more. So why was he still working there? The insanity must have been contagious because he had to be mad to still want to work in that place.

The first thing Sebastian had thought when he'd come to England was how _dull_ the place was. Oh, how wrong he'd been proven. He'd been so bored in all his jobs, looking for a thrill, and here it was, in St. Victoria's Institution, maybe even in a certain blue-haired patient.

If one thing had come from that night he and Ciel had saved Joker from The Room, besides the knowledge of what the place could do, it was some sort of change in his and Ciel's relationship. He couldn't even name what exactly was changed. A growing trust, a camaraderie, _something._ After that day, Ciel came out of his room during the day much more often. Most of the times they played games, from card games to board games, sometimes word games like riddles and tongue-twisters. Unfortunately, no matter what the game, Ciel was still the reigning champion, but he was determined to usurp the smug little brat. Sometimes they didn't even play games; they talked, about random things, the staff, the patients, sometimes Ciel quizzed him about outside the asylum, and during those times there was an almost childish glee in his voice and face that betrayed his true age.

The next month passed without incident, but Sebastian didn't allow himself to be lulled into a false sense of security. The month had to it an air of calm before the storm.

 

 

۞

 

 

“I turn my head, and you may go where you want. I turn it again, you will stay 'til you rot. I have no face, but I live or die. By my crooked teeth - who am I?”

Ciel sat back in what was acknowledged by everyone these days as _his_ armchair, hands folded in his lap, smug.

Sebastian carefully kept the frown from his face, running through each line of the riddle. He almost had it when that bit- Angela came over.

“Sebastian, would you mind taking Ciel to the visitors room? He has a guest,” she informed, as always striding off without waiting for an answer, so sure in her authority.

Sebastian blinked.  
“There's a visitors room?”

“...You do work here, right?” Ciel stood from the chair, gesturing Sebastian to do the same, “Come on. The longer she has to wait, the more handsy she gets.”

The two left the ward, and Ciel led Sebastian down several hallways and up a flight of stairs. He was almost running, and Sebastian had to lengthen his strides to keep up with the clearly anticipating boy. Not long after, they reached another door, and not two steps into the room, a blur of red pounced on Ciel.

“Oh no, you've gotten taller again! Keep this up and you won't be cute anymore!”

She was a vision in red; vivid hair, meticulous make-up, an extravagant dress and a hat almost as tall as the woman herself. She was a head taller than Ciel, and she squeezed him tighter against her chest, smirking as he struggled to escape her clutches.

“Why the hell - would I want to - be called – cute!” He finally pulled free, apparently unaware of the pout on his face that some would call _cute._

The woman pulled Ciel across the room to sit at one of the many tables, annoying Sebastian as it was far beyond his range of hearing.

 

 

۞

 

 

“So, how has my favourite nephew been?” Ann asked, chin resting on her hand, sending the boy a cheeky grin.

“I'm your only nephew,” Ciel felt the need to point out, “And I've been as always.”

“Oh dear, do cheer up, I've come all this way to see you! And I've got such fantastic news-”

“You're getting married,” Ciel cut in, Angelina faltering.

“...How did you know that?” she cried out, appalled that her wondrous moment had been ruined. To be fair, she was aware that Ciel was hardly going to be beside himself with joy at the prospect, not too keen on the whole joy-thing in the first place. Still, she'd at least expected to be able to say it herself!

“The rock on your ring finger was something of a clue,” Ciel stated, gesturing to the diamond she was sporting, “It's much more modest than I'd have expected, though. So, what's his name?”

“Arthur Wordsmith. You like him, he writes those murder mysteries that you read.” The pride in her voice when she said that almost drew a smile from the boy.

“Him? Mm, he's quite talented. His latest work was enjoyable, though it began awfully slowly. Tell him to work on that.”

Ann rolled her eyes, “I'll be sure to pass on the mess-”

“Congratulations, Auntie Ann,” he said it so hastily, refusing to meet her eyes, as though if he didn't say it then he thought he never would, and Ann granted him a warm smile, seeing the old Ciel in that moment.

He was clearly uncomfortable, and as much fun as it was to watch her little nephew squirm, she decided to grant mercy. Ruffling around in her pockets, she glanced over at the unfamiliar Orderly by the door, “Lizzie wanted me to give you this.”

Ciel glanced back up from the table at the envelope in Ann's hand. She began to think that maybe he wouldn't take it, imagined the girl's face if she had to give it back to her, but then it was snatched from her grasp, tucked away in the hem of his pants, “Right. Thanks.”

Ann stared at her nephew for a long time.

“Something is different with you. Did something happen? Something good, I hope.”

Ann resisted the urge to rub her eyes in disbelief as a ghost of a smile passed over Ciel's face, not missing the flicker of his eyes over to the strange man, “You could say that.”

 

 

۞

 

 

He was one hour, forty-seven minutes and twenty-two seconds late. Not that Ciel was counting.

To think he'd actually gotten out of bed, and the man had the cheek to not even show up for work. There was certainly something to be said for professionalism there!

Ciel huffed beneath his breath, throwing his legs over the armrest and folding his arms across his chest. Was Sebastian sick?

“...You didn't even think that move through, did you?” Ciel sighed, exasperated, as Alois just shoved his rook across the board.

Honestly, he was so bored he was actually playing chess with _Alois,_ for Christ's sake.

“Sure I did! How else would my hand have knew to move it?” Alois stuck his tongue out at Ciel childishly.

Ciel just huffed again, apparently not noticing he kept doing it, though it certainly didn't escape Alois' notice. It was quite funny to see Ciel so worked up. It definitely was a rare sight, after all.

Half an hour later meant that Sebastian was exactly two hours, seventeen minutes and nineteen seconds late, Ciel was pretending he wasn't sulking despite the severely jutted out bottom lip, and Alois was playing war with the chess pieces.

Ciel was just grateful the blond hadn't progressed to licking them yet. Disinfectant was rather hard to get his hands on.

“Ciel? A minute?” Out of freakin' thin air, Sebastian was suddenly at Ciel's side, startling the younger boy. Rather than getting up, Ciel just gave Alois _a look_ , and Alois started huffing exaggeratedly as he sauntered away, muttering something that sounded distinctly like _bros before hos._

“Where've _you_ been?” Ciel asked, failing to keep the annoyance out of his voice. Sebastian took Alois' vacant seat, a slight smirk playing about his lips, and pushed something across the table to him.

“Bard allowed me to borrow his kitchen. Shockingly, food can in fact be made there. Someone should inform him,” Sebastian stated offhandly, watching Ciel's face carefully.

Ciel Phantomhive may have been isolated from society for a good portion of his years, and those years he had been subjected to Bard's delicacies, but he still knew what pastries looked like and he'd be damned if that wasn't a caramel choux bun sitting on the table before him.

Sebastian blinked as the cake disappeared, the only evidence of its existence being the cream Ciel was quickly licking from his fingers.

“...That... was actually good. You... can cook?” The disbelief in the boy's voice was almost offensive.

“Technically you bake cakes, but I get your point. You liked it then?” The nervousness, a very _small_ amount of nervousness!, that floated about him as he waited for Ciel's answer was very annoying.

Ciel blinked over at him.

“Yes, I did. You are aware that you've gone and made yourself my baker now, right?” he said matter-of-factly, and Sebastian gave a small laugh.

“I suppose I have. Happy Birthday, Ciel.”

Ciel blinked again, and confusion flickered through his visible eye before he nodded.

“Oh, yeah. Thanks.”

Sebastian couldn't help noticing that it was like he'd completely forgotten that day was his birthday.

 

 

۞

 

 

When Claude Faustus looked at you, _really looked at you,_ he saw everything. When he was in session with someone, he always took his glasses off, shedding the only defense the patient had between them and those piercing amber eyes. He saw your past, your present, maybe even your future though he wouldn't be likely to share those secrets. He saw every little fault, all of the smallest discrepancies of your person. He saw your likes and dislikes, your dreams and your nightmares. He knew the fears that haunted your minds and he was on speaking terms with all your inner-demons. Claude Faustus saw everything.

At least, that was what Alois Trancy believed.

He liked it when Claude looked at him. Claude knew how dirty he was, but he still looked at him.

“Why haven't you been taking your medication, Alois?” What he liked best about Claude was his voice. It was so soft, it was always like he was murmuring, like every word between them was a secret that only they would know. His voice was so very comforting.

Not today, though, because Alois wasn't Alois today.

“Makes me feel sick,” the blond responded in a whisper, looking away from those piercing eyes.

It had been a week since Alois had started refusing to take his pills, and he was acting differently. More quiet, more introverted. Everyone had noticed, particularly Dr. Faustus.

A part of Alois was thrilled by the fact.

“I don't think they do. I'd have noticed. I'm always keeping a close eye on you, Alois.”

The thrill increased, the words sounding more intimate than they should have done.

“Liar. You only see me because you're looking at Ciel,” Alois spat, not in the way his anger usually sounded, more disappointed, more hurt.

Claude set down his notebook and pen, meeting Alois' eyes in such a way that the blond couldn't have looked away no matter how much he may have wanted to.

“It's the other way around, Alois. It's you I see.”

Hope bloomed like a flower in Alois' chest, the petals unfurling with every sweet word Claude granted him. Heat rose in his cheeks, and he willed himself to look away, not to be caught in the web Claude easily wove.

The older man stood from his chair, slowly stepping around his desk and towards the seated boy. As he stood before him, Claude dropped down to kneel, a hand resting on each of Alois' knees. His grip was tight, comforting, but Alois couldn't stop the voice in his head that was saying that Claude's face was just as emotionless as always.

“Alois,” his words were a breathy whisper, and with each one he drew closer, “I want you to get better. Just think; when you're better, I can take you away from here. It'll just be you and I. You want that, don't you? You want us to be... together, right?”

The door clicked open, but Claude grasped Alois' chin firmly before he could turn to see who it was.

The hope was replaced by panic as the newcomer handed something to Claude.

“Close your eyes.” Claude's breath fanned across his face, warm and familiar.

“N-No.”

For a second, Claude's mask slipped, and there was a look of hurt that cut deep into Alois, “You trust me, don't you?”

And Alois, still clinging to that smallest shred of hope that he felt whenever Claude looked at him, _really looked at him,_ did trust the man, and he let his sapphire eyes close.

Soft lips pressed tentatively against Alois' and he let out a small gasp of surprise. Claude took this as invitation to explore deeper, lips no longer tentative, tongue sliding into Alois' mouth.

For that single moment, the hope was granted, and if Alois hadn't wanted to cry so much he would have laughed at his own sheer stupidity.

God knows how many pills Claude forced down his throat through the pseudo-kiss, but when the tongue left his mouth and the lips pulled away, Alois was already slipping into darkness. Just before everything went black, he saw that the other person had been Hannah, but... he must have been really out of it already, because it almost looked like she had two eyes.

 

 

۞

 

 

“ _Hello, Jim. Welcome home,” the unfamiliar woman greeted with a plastic smile, holding the door open for the small blond. Jim didn't respond, just slid past her and into the manor house. Everything about the place screamed cliché, with the rich red rugs and the wall-hangings that told stories the owner of the place probably hadn't bothered to learn. Who needed to learn when they were born with a silver-spoon in their mouth?_

_The woman who'd opened the door stumbled after him, flustered, “W-wait! I need to show you to the Master's room!”_

_Jim paused, glancing back at the woman with a look in his eyes that froze her in her tracks, “I know perfectly well where that man's room is,” and he continued on his way._

_With every step bringing him closer to that hated man, Jim thought. Thought and thought and thought yet could find no product from his thoughts. There was no answer in his mind, no plan, no nothing._

_He'd hoped he would never have to walk these halls again._

_Goddamit, Luka._

_He didn't knock, though that was what he'd always been taught to do when in the house of his better. He didn't view this scum as his better, anyway._

_The man was obscene, in every way. Obscenely overweight, obscenely dressed, obscenely perverted. One could truly lose faith in humanity when one looked upon such a 'person'._

“ _Where is Luka?” Jim barked as soon as he crossed the threshold, not wanting to waste any more words than he had to on the animal. The man, lounged across the bed, was covered by nothing but a thin sheet, and it did little to protect Jim's young eyes._

“ _He's alive,” was the only answer the blond was given, the man patting the bed in clear invitation._

_They both knew how this would go, no words were necessary._

_It had been foolish of Jim to run. Now Luka was suffering for his older brother's foolishness._

_Jim wouldn't let him suffer if he could stop it, even if that meant that no amount of showers could clean him._

_Dirty fingers trailing across his skin, disgusting lips touching everywhere, his body invaded with no mercy._

_He ordered Jim to moan, moan like the little whore he was, and Jim complied, hating himself a little more with every sound he forced past his bitten and bloodied lips._

_Every time the man was done, he'd ask, “Where is Luka?”, and the man would promise he was alive, promise that if Jim behaved he'd tell him._

_Every night, Jim lay down and closed his eyes, blocked out the pants and groans above him, and thought of their village. Thought of returning there with Luka, to live with the nice lady who sometimes gave them food when she could spare it. Jim would get clean eventually, and he could watch little Luka grow up and make sure no one ever touched him the way that man was touching him, and-_

“I want Luka now! No, don't touch me! I said now-”

_-then they'd go to school like normal kids, make friends and play fun games, it'd be nice to be married some day too-_

“You promised me! You promised he was alive!-”

_-if he ever did get married, it would be to a woman like the nice lady from the village. She had such pretty eyes, that was what Luka always said. Or maybe to someone like the man who came to the manor and promised to take him away to a better place-_

“Why?! Why?! Why?! How could you?! H-He-”

_-the man who cleaned up all the blood and got rid of that man's body and when he asked to be called Alois the man didn't ask questions and took hold of his hand and wiped away the tears, led him away from the bad place-_

 

 

۞

 

 

It was night when he finally woke up, tucked up in his own bed, back in the ward. Someone had turned on the night-light Agni had managed to sneak into the ward for him, a dull yellow light splashing across the room, chasing away the shadows.

His stomach twisted painfully, a pounding behind his eyes fierce enough that spots danced across his vision. Those damn pills made him feel so damn sick. He should have known what Claude was going to do; it wasn't the first time he'd resorted to such methods to get Alois to do what he wanted. Yet Alois knew he wouldn't have pulled away even if he'd seen the pills in Claude's hand. For a second, he got to pretend.

His throat tightened, a burning in his eyes that had nothing to do with the headache, and-

“Oi, Jim, if you start crying, I swear to God I'll lose any little respect I may have for you,” a voice suddenly spoke up, startling the blond. Tearing his eyes from the wall he'd been having a staring contest with, he looked to the side of his bed.   
Ciel frowned down at him, turning the page of his book, shifting around in the plastic chair to try and get more comfortable.

It was definitely past curfew, which meant Ciel was locked in with him. He'd been here since before curfew then? Waiting for him to wake up?

Alois gave him a watery smile, “Then I'll just have to earn that respect back later, won't I?”

Ciel didn't offer any words of comfort as Alois descended into gut-wrenching sobs, tears falling shamelessly down his cheeks, burrowing his face into the pillow to try and muffle the sound he knew Ciel hated. Ciel didn't rush to hug him like other people would, didn't tell him that everything was going to be alright. That was one of the unwritten rules for St. Victoria's patients; never say everything will be alright. It's nothing but a patronizing lie. Instead of those things, Ciel continued to read his book, reaching out a hesitant hand and threading his fingers through Alois' hair.

Luka used to stroke his hair too.

It might have been minutes or hours later when Alois' cries degenerated into hiccups, then eventually just deep breathes. Ciel continued to pet the blond's head until he was sure the crying fit was over, and then he closed his book, looking expectantly to his friend.

“Claude kissed me,” Alois finally shared, almost wary to meet Ciel's gaze.

Ciel didn't even try to hide his disgust, the urge to wash the hand he'd petted Alois with so obvious that the blond almost laughed.

“I'll never understand your obsession with that doctor,” Ciel stated, shaking his head.

Alois smirked.

“Probably something along the same lines as _your_ obsession with that Sebastian.”

“Dear lord, you must be mental. Obsession? Not even close-”

“It must be the same! 'Cause Ciel plays with him, and talks to him, and even listens when he talks back! And deny it all you want, but you blatantly trust him! Whatever's between you and Sebastian is the closest thing I think you can feel to what _I_ feel for Claude-”

“Nonsense. He's my ticket out of this place, nothing more,” Ciel replied adamantly, the look he gave Alois daring him to argue.

Alois gave a bark of laughter, “It's so cute that you've got yourself believing that!”

It was funny, how contradictory Ciel was without even realising. Ciel missed nothing, but when it came to himself, he was so very blind. Sebastian was his ticket out of the institute, he said? Yet he never denied being mad. Ciel was always so sure he belonged in St. Victoria's. Was he really intending to leave?

Alois suddenly felt ten-times sicker.

“Ciel... When you leave here... will... will you leave _me_ too?”

Ciel looked startled, and it was obvious that he'd never even considered anyone else when making his escape plans. His mouth worked soundlessly for a while, before he just opened his book again, and Alois knew his answer.

He closed his eyes, only for a moment, but it ended up being hours, and it was daylight by the time he opened them again. The sound of a scraping chair was what woke him, and he opened his eyes to see Ciel's retreating back. It was starting to feel like he only ever saw Ciel walking away from him lately, to Sebastian and to freedom, and the urge to cry rose again.

Ciel paused by the door with his hand on the handle and said, without turning back, “I'm not going to hold your hand forever, Alois. You're a big boy... but I won't just leave you here either. That's a promise.”

 

 

۞

 

 

Ciel was just like a little cat, Alois sometimes thought. When he was awake, he was unapproachable to most, distant and cold. Of course, Alois knew better, but that was how Ciel liked to present himself. When he was asleep, though, Ciel was borderline adorable. Right now, he was curled up against Alois' side, head resting on his thigh, completely out of it. If he'd been awake, he'd have slapped Alois' hand away and sat up, embarrassed at having been in such a position.

Everyone, bar Drocell and Snake who had disappeared into Drocell's room an hour ago and had yet to emerge, was sitting in a circle in the leisure room. No Orderlies were about, Undertaker was holding some sort of training seminar for them, and none of the patients envied them that.

Freckles laughed so hard she wheezed, face ten shades of ten, “Fine! Fine! I'd... well, I'd kill Grell, cause the flamer is always calling me frumpy. I'd marry Ronald, he seems pretty fun. And I guess that means I...”

“Come on, you have to say it!” Dagger sniggered.

Freckles blushed even deeper if that was possible, before just throwing her hands up in defeat, “Ugh! Fine! I'd shag Will! Bet he's a hellcat in bed. Soma's turn! Um... Okay, how about Cantebury, Agni and Hannah?”

Soma didn't even pause to think, flashing Freckles a cheeky grin, “Can I shag and marry the same person?”

“No! You gotta choose!” Freckles pouted, but Joker just laughed, elbowing her in the side.

“Nonsense, Doll. Alls fair in love and war, y'know.”

“Okay! Alois; Sebastian, Claude and... Angela.”

Everyone unanimously groaned, they couldn't have done that again if they'd rehearsed.

“Kill Mangela,” Alois stated without hesitation, “I'd glady fuck Claude! But Sebby's off limits, you know that.”

Joker grinned, “Got that right. Smile's snagged that one for himself.”

“I've got a pretty good idea what exactly they get up to during their midnight rendezvous~” Dagger sang, only to abruptly pout when Beast remarked, “That's an awful big word for you, bro.”

Alois' hand was batted away from Ciel's mop of tangled hair, the boy shooting upwards after realising who exactly his pillow was. The air of annoyance he gave off was dulled by his sleepiness.

“Afternoon, sunshine,” Dagger, apparently over his moment of woe, greeted with a wink, “Thought you were gonna sleep the day away.”

“How could anyone possibly sleep through such painful stupidity?” Ciel grumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Alois and Soma's eyes met over Ciel's head and they shared a conspiratorial smile.   
Ciel's ears were bright red, the closest thing to a blush you got from the boy.

 

 

۞

 

 

Ciel was finally getting to the half-decent part of his book when his bedroom door was pushed ajar, Alois slipping through the gap and pushing it shut quietly behind him.

“Out, Alois. I've surpassed my daily tolerance of you,” Ciel snapped, still flustered over the conversation Alois had gone and started with the others before. Alois ignored his order, slowly making his way over to Ciel's bed and curling up on the bottom. Ciel frowned, the blond had been acting like usual before, he'd assumed the depression was passed.

The one-eyed boy went back to reading.

Alois would talk when he was ready.

It was an hour later that Alois finally spoke up, and Ciel wished he hadn't.

“Hey, Ciel... are you really gonna sleep with Sebastian?”

Ciel's ears burned red again, and he was thankful his long hair hid them from sight. With a scowl, he bit out, “Of course I'm not.”

“...'kay.”

Ciel wasn't fooled, and knew the topic wasn't closed. He stared at the words on the page, but didn't continue reading. A few minutes later, Alois spoke up again.

“...Would you sleep with him if it meant he'd take you away from here?”

“No.” There was no hesitation, the answer was given as soon as the question was finished. “I will not let myself be used.”

“Aren't you using Sebastian, though?” Alois pointed out, rolling over so that he was facing his friend but keeping his eyes closed.

Ciel rolled his eyes.

“This and that are two completely different things. Sebastian won't be harmed by anything I do.”

They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, and Ciel was almost glad when Alois broke it.

“Ciel... I'm always honest with you, so just this once, be honest with me, 'kay? I need to know... Do you really like Sebastian?” Alois opened his eyes then, and the look was one so damn vulnerable that even Ciel was affected. He'd had the _no_ ready on his tongue the second he heard the question, but when Alois looked at him like that, pleaded with him to tell the truth... there was no advantage to telling Alois the truth, but there was little disadvantage either.

Ciel thought long and hard before he finally answered, and Alois was grateful for that careful consideration.

“I... don't know. Sebastian is different in my view than the other staff like Ash and Faustus... but I don't know if it's the same type of different like it is for you and Faustus, or Soma and Agni,” Ciel faltered, a strange frown forming on his face, and he was almost whispering now, “I'm not sure whether I'm capable of that.”

Alois crawled down the bed towards him, careful, not touching, and tried to make Ciel meet his eyes, “You _are_ capable of it, Ciel. You and me, we're the same. If I can feel this way, you definitely can. Listen, I... I see the way Sebastian looks at you. Heh, it's funny. You can't see it, and I'm pretty sure he can't, but everyone else can.”

Ciel didn't respond, looking everywhere but at the blond.

“Ciel... do you _want_ to be able to feel that way?”

Because that would be the biggest problem. Not whether Sebastian felt that way, nor whether Ciel felt that way, but if Ciel would _let_ himself feel that way.

“No! I don't. I don't want it to be used against me. It's weak, Alois!” Ciel was almost shouting, face so torn that Alois just wanted to envelope him in a hug, “...you should go back to your room. It's almost curfew.”

And Alois knew he'd pushed his friend a little too far today. For once, he didn't argue, just rose from the bed and walked to the door. A part of him wanted to just keep quiet, knew that it would be a lot better to just leave Ciel alone now, but he truly didn't want Ciel to _feel like that._

“That's the point of liking someone, Ciel. You can be as weak as you want, and they'll... they'll be strong for you.”

Ciel didn't answer, and Alois said no more on the matter.

“G'night, Ciel.”

 

 

۞


	8. Chapter 8

۞

 

**Chapter Eight**

 

۞

 

 

It wouldn't open.

He'd been staring at the damn thing, willing the envelope to just burst open for what might have been hours now. It was still on the desk, where he'd left it a couple of days ago, somehow hoping it would disappear. Unsurprisingly, it hadn't. Figures. Things he wanted like his collectables and unread books vanished daily – _if Gray really thought he didn't know it was him, he was an even worse psychologist than everyone thought –_ but that bloody letter was still lying there, taunting him with its unopenness.

Ciel heaved a sigh, a familiar throbbing behind his eyepatch that always reared its ugly head when he was stressing out.

Okay, so maybe it wasn't the letter that he was getting so bent out of shape over. Maybe it was easier to focus his irritation on the letter and its sender than on Alois and his idealistic words the other day.

He'd be damned if he was going to start listening to the blond psychopath _now._

...And there he was, letting his thoughts crawl back to that conversation, _again._

The letter wasn't going to open itself, Ciel finally relented. It should have done, because he wanted it to, but the world really wasn't working in his favour today. With the umpteenth sigh of the day, he rose from his bed and dropped into the deskchair.

He'd already cleaned his room, or at least rearranged the mess, twice. Every item on the desk apart from the letter had been moved, moved, moved again. All his books were in alphabetical order, his dozen identical clothes neatly folded.

Glancing around the room, he realized with a sinking feeling that there was actually nothing left to do but to read the letter.

The envelope only said _'Ciel'_ in her painfully familiar, even now, elegant hand. There was patches that were slightly off-colour, and somehow he knew she'd stuck little stickers there but thought better of it. He wondered if she had agonized over this letter as much as he was.

He tore open the envelope.

_Dear Ciel,_

_Auntie Ann says that she'll give my letter to you. I hope she does, she's been so forgetful since she got engaged to Arthur. Speaking of which, I'm going to be a bridesmaid! I'll get a beautiful dress, new shoes, my hair done, the full works. The wedding is going to be the summer of next year, which will be nice, though I have to admit I'm a little disappointed. That means we'll have to wait a whole year! They should have the wedding in winter! What's more romantic than snow?_

_Do you still like the snow, Ciel? I wonder. We used to always play in the snow, though you'd always be mean and push ice down the back of my dress. At least until your chest starting getting bad. I think of you whenever it snows. Wondering if you can breathe all right. You always managed to lose your inhaler. It was lucky Auntie always carried an extra for you._

_I think of you when it doesn't snow too. I've got a whole drawer full of letters I wrote, but never gave to Auntie. I'd read them when I was done writing and think how pointless they were. Meaningless ramblings about my day, about my friends whose names you don't know nor care to, about events that I'll have forgotten all about by the time you read about them. Those letters just seemed like they'd waste your time. Maybe one day I'll show them to you, when you come home._

_You're probably wondering why I'm sending this letter if I didn't send any of the others. Remember when we were little, and our Mothers would joke about the day we'd get married, planning all the little details to make us blush, like the little snowflakes on the invitations, and my orchid-bouquet? They'd make us practice our waltz, because they wanted that to be our first dance, even though you could never quite get the hang of leading me. It was fun, wasn't it? Even when you stepped on my toes, I was having fun._

_I'm engaged, Ciel. You probably don't remember him, you never had much of a head for names and faces. I can't show you his face, but his name is Leo Baskerville. He's very good to me, takes me dancing and out to fancy meals, buys me pretty things and treats me like a princess. I think I love him. You'd think he was an idiot._

_For the longest time I put off setting the date. No one, even myself, understood why I was so adamant not to pick a day for the wedding. Then I realised. I said I'd wait for you, Ciel. Back then, when Auntie Ann came in tears and told me you wouldn't be coming home, I promised that I'd wait for you. I suppose a part of me, the part who didn't want to set the date, was still waiting for you. But I can't wait any longer, Ciel. It's funny, isn't it? A little girl always dreams of her wedding day. The big white dress, the roses, the beautiful church. And for me, when I pictured my groom, I pictured you. Not the little you who stepped on my toes when we danced, but the man you would grow to be. I never thought as a little girl that I wouldn't know that man._

_I'm going to marry Leo. Our first dance will be the waltz, he's a beautiful lead, and my bouquet will be orchids. I guess I'm just selfishly trying to ease this guilt by writing to you. I feel as though I betrayed you, the you who I grew up with and whose last name I'd add to my first name in my head, by not waiting. But I still hope. I hope that one day you'll come home. Not to be my husband, because I will be a loyal and loving wife, but just so that maybe I can get to know the man you've become, Ciel._

_No longer yours but always with love,_

_Lizzie._

And Ciel smiled, a genuine smile, maybe the smile that he'd given Lizzie once upon a time when they'd danced and she'd only giggled when he'd damn-near trampled her dainty little feet. It had been the longest time since he'd smiled like he was smiling now, and it almost hurt.

Little Lizzie Middleford was getting married. She was right that he didn't remember that Leo person, but regardless, he mentally changed her name to Lizzie Baskerville, and it sounded right. So much better than Lizzie Phantomhive would have sounded, no matter how many times she may have chanted the name in her head.

Ciel tried to picture just how Lizzie might have looked now, but couldn't. To him, she would always be the beaming girl with the doe-like eyes of enchanting emerald and hair like liquid gold. With her shrill cries and streaming tears when she didn't get her way, but her tinkling laugh and that warmth she gave everybody without reserve.

Little Lizzie was getting married, and she had the blessing of the man Ciel Phantomhive had become.

 

 

۞

 

 

The elation simply wasn't destined to last.

“Late...” Ciel muttered to himself, twirling a pawn between his fingers. As pathetic a competition as Ash proved these days, he found himself bored enough to wander out into the leisure room that night. He was beginning to wonder whether Ash had again been struck by one of his too numerous to be innocent illnesses, when someone opened the ward door.

He frowned, but greeted, “Hello, Hannah.”

“Hello, Ciel,” that voice that was so soft it was a whisper responded, the woman coming over to the empty chair, the dim lamplight doing little to illuminate her. Ciel had to squint if he wanted to see her at all.

“Ash ill again?” He set the pawn down, moving it to the most advantageous place mechanically. He wouldn't have to try with her.

“It would seem so,” she responded, mimicking Ciel's movement with little to no thought.

They played in silence for a while, the game doing nothing to lift Ciel's boredom, before Hannah spoke again. An unwelcome question.

“How are your sessions with Dr. Faustus going, Ciel?”

He looked up at that, and she must have moved at some point, because he could see her properly now.

“A-Ah-”

Bile rose in his throat.

A plastic smile twisted her lips, feral, mirth glistening in her eyes as the colour fled Ciel's face.

His first thought was that _it grew back,_ but even in such a sickened state, Ciel wasn't stupid and knew that was impossible. Eyes didn't just grow back, especially not when they were clawed from someone's very skull.

His second thought was _oh christ I know that colour,_ and he did. It took but a second to place the murky grey that had glared at him oh-so-many times for whatever unknown slight, that had once belonged to Peter, that now stared out at him in amusement as he tried to look away but _couldn't._

“Is something the matter, Ciel?” she asked softly, innocently, and _that eye_ followed his hands as he brought them up to cover his mouth.

There were still faint lines around her eye where stitches had clearly been, and he didn't know why but seeing those barely-there scars were what sickened him the most.

“G-Gonna be sick-” Ciel choked out, jumping from his chair so quickly it clattered to the floor. Hannah didn't move to stop him as he stumbled away from her as fast as he could, his own eye glued to his door, needing to get into his room even though the door wouldn't lock and she could easily just come after him, but _it was his room and that meant safety-_

He wasn't surprised when hands wrapped around him, but that didn't stop him from thrashing around, trying to escape their grasps. His skin crawled everywhere he felt their touch, and if he'd been able to, he would have clawed at the flesh to stop that revolting crawl.

“Shh, Ciel,” he heard Hannah say distantly, a hollow echo of comfort in her tone.

Two of the triplets, nameless as far as he was concerned, held him steady as the third knelt in front of him with the needle. Hannah's hand grasped his cheeks, keeping his head still.

The default thought so instilled in him that it came as often as air returned, that maybe if he just kept still, let them do as they please, retreated inside himself and waited, then it would all be over soon enough, maybe even painlessly.

And, as always, Ciel killed the thought. Like _hell_ would he be forced to his knees.

It was so hard to remember that resolution when the drug spread through his veins like wildfire, burning all sense away. He fell limp in their hands, his body no longer listening to his screams to escape them.

 

 

۞

 

 

That heartbeat was a vicious flutter beneath his fingertips, so like the wings of a butterfly caged by hands, loose enough to live but tight enough to ensnare. There was a thrilled satisfaction that he was the one making his heart beat in such a frenzy, furthered when the boy's hands clung to him instinctively as his head broke the surface. Clutching so tightly at his arms, because _he_ was his lifeline, _he_ was relief from the pain – _ah, but you are the one inflicting it, aren't you? only for his own good, always for his own good_ – and the boy knew it.

Ciel choked and spluttered, couching up water that was more like ice, lashing his captor and saviour with a glare colder than any freeze. His chest rose and fell, heaving heavily, his breath a wheeze.

“What did you do, Ciel?”

The same words as always transpired between them, and it was the unspoken words weaved between the spoken, _I want to help you, I want to make you better, I want to free you,_ that fell on deaf ears as Ciel resolutely kept his lips together.

He almost sighed, “It's unfortunate you're being so stubborn, Ciel,” as the boy left him no other choice than to force his head beneath the water's surface once again.

Claude tightened his arm around the boy's waist as he flung out his arms and legs, not a fraction of aim, just desperation to hit the man as his lungs burned and spots danced before his eyes. He tightened his fist in the silken cobalt hair, making sure Ciel didn't get air until Claude granted it to him.

As Ciel's back hitched, movements becoming more frantic, Claude pulled him back towards his chest again. Water flooded the linoleum floor they were knelt on, every inch of Ciel saturated through.

“What did you do, Ciel?”

His skin was ice to the touch now, body racked with violent tremors, but Claude knew that had little to do with the temperature and more with their proximity. Ciel was too busy forcing the water from his body to pull away though, even when Claude began to aide him, rubbing small circles on his back.

Again he could feel that heartbeat, fingers skimming over his collarbone, so brittle and _fragile._ Just a little pressure, a little too much force, and the bones would snap, the fluttering heartbeat would cease.

But of course he wouldn't do that. _No,_ he thought as Ciel finally caught his breath enough to try wrenching away from the too-intimate hold Claude had on him, _because the powerful protect the weak. We protect that fragile heartbeat, and we fix those broken bones._

“What did you do, Ciel?”

And the first step to fixing the weak was, of course, to make them see just how broken they were.

 

 

۞

 

 

“ _Ciel?!”_ His voice missed its usual exuberance, so heavy with worry that it almost drew him to waking.

“ _Wha-What's wrong with him?”_ She knew, of course, had seen it before, but could think of little else to say. Her speechlessness was unusual enough that it almost pulled him to consciousness.

_Oh god, it hurt. Head was pounding, like something was inside his skull trying to claw its way out, and had he drank fire because his throat burned so damn much, and where was all the air?_

“ _What do we do?”_ That voice was never calm, yet now they were taking charge of the situation, and it was so funny he wanted to laugh, but there wasn't enough air to breathe, nevermind laugh.

The voices all melded into one and he could no longer put a name or even a face to them, and then he couldn't hear them at all.

 

 

۞

 

 

“Joker!”

“Sebastian!”

“ _Joker!”_

“ _Sebastian!”_

Anyone with any experience at St. Victoria's would attest with utmost honesty that Soma Asman Kadar, information-bank and self-proclaimed Prince, was a child. Even at twenty years old, he was a child. If he wasn't the centre of attention, if he didn't get his way, if the curry Bard made was _just_ that little bit too hot, all hell broke loose.

Soma was very aware of how people viewed him. He played on it, even. Which was why, at times like these, there was nothing he loved more than the looks on people's faces when he acted his age.

“Freckles, Ciel's shivering has gotten worse. Go and get your quilt for him,” Soma instructed, looking very much the Prince he pretended to be as he lounged in Ciel's deskchair, gesturing the girl away.

She tore her eyes away from Alois, scowl now being thrown his way, but after a quick glance at the trembling mess on the bed, she nodded and stalked out the door. Alois _hmph_ 'd, folding his arms across his chest.

Soma had already been discarded from the argument. He'd been ready to go and get Agni to help, but neither Alois or Freckles were very agreeable. At least Freckles disagreed in a more agreeable way, though.

An awkward silence developed between the two boys, broken only by Ciel's rattling breaths.

Soma never did handle silence well.

“So... Nice weather we're having, huh?” He injected as much enthusiasm into the words as possible, but the poisonous look Alois shot him made clear the attempt was unappreciated.

“Yeah, the weather here usually sucks. Now, winters in India, man are they something!”

Were those crickets he could hear?

“... I hear there might even be snow next week!”

Alois just carried on glaring at him.

“Y'know, that's pretty impressive, Alois. I could never go that long without blinking. My eyes get all tired and scratchy and blurry and-”

“Stop talking.”

“Yessir.”

It was anyone's guess who was more grateful for Freckles' return. At least until Alois caught sight of who was following behind her.

“I said no, you stupid cow!” the blond hissed, and if it had been anyone else on the receiving end, they'd have retreated as quickly as they could. As it were, Freckles was more than used to Alois' mood swings – she was fairly sure his even worse than normal temperament towards her was solely down to her gender and his dislike of said gender – so she just flipped him off.

Joker gave a sheepish grin, “Nice to see you too, blondie.”

“What the hell is he gonna be able to do to help? Nothing we couldn't do. We need someone from the staff-”

“No staff! They can't be trusted!” Freckles cut off, bordering shrill.

Soma just sighed. That was pretty much the back-and-forth they'd been having for the past hour and a half. As Freckles and Alois resumed their circuitous argument, Joker came over. He rested his good hand on Ciel's forehead, grimacing.

“Don't need a thermometer to know that ain't right.”

“We can just toss him in the shower and run the cold for his temp. It's his breathing that's the problem,” Soma informed, and as if on cue, Ciel broke out into throat-tearing coughs. It wasn't the coughs that concerned them so much as the trouble the unconscious boy had regaining his breath afterwards.

Joker frowned.

“Well... for a start, I don't think more covers are a good idea. We need to get his temp _down,_ not jack it up more,” as he said it, the man ripped the blankets away, “What he needs is his inhaler...”

“Which is why we should get Sebastian! He'll help!” Alois jumped at the slightest hint in his favour.

Freckles groaned in frustration. Honest to God, she wanted to slap the blond psychopath. Preferably with a brick.

“What part of _no staff_ aren't you getting-”

“As loathe as I am to disagree with a lady, I'm thinkin' blondie has a point. Sebastian's a good bloke, s'far as I've seen anyway, risked his ass to help me out. God knows I'd be missin' more than an arm if he hadn't come alo-”

“That was Smile, not him!” Freckles looked positively betrayed, and Joker couldn't help wincing. The idea that the person she thought could solve all the problems, he was painfully aware a lot of the other patients saw him that way, was willing to actually ask _staff_ for _help._ It was nothing short of sickening.

“Doll,” she softened at the rarely-used petname, “Smile wouldn't have gotten as far as the door without Sebastian's help and you know it. He needs our help, and you being stubborn over this isn't helpin' at all. There's no way we're gonna be able to get his inhaler by ourselves.”

Freckles looked everywhere but at Joker, face crumpled somewhere between thought and anger, and it was all he could do not to scrap the idea just to get rid of that expression so unbecoming of her.

She didn't say anything more, didn't relent to Joker's reasoning, but her silence was the most permission she was going to give them.

 

 

۞

 

 

“I mean, you've got to appreciate the work he's put into it!” Ronald beamed, eyes shining with mirth behind his thick-rimmed glasses, skipping along beside the fuming Sebastian. When said livid man turned the most ferocious of glares on him, the younger man only seemed more amused.

“The stitchwork! I didn't know he was capable of that, must have practised for weeks. He'll have been working on it _alllll_ night long.”

How was this person still alive? Surely someone should have murdered him by now. Sebastian was seriously considering taking the job himself. While he was at it, may as well take care of that demented, overly-flamboyant, excessively loud, argument-for-an-entire-human-race-genocide Grell Sutcliffe.

“Hey, Sebastian! Have you got a... _flurgle.”_

To those less versed in the language of Soma, _'flurgle'_ is the approximate translation of _'oh wow, that Grell guy has stitched his name onto your ass, but whoa, you don't look happy and if I laugh I'll probably die.'_ Unfortunately, thanks to Agni, Sebastian was rather fluent in Soma-nese, and the purple-haired man's attempts to swallow his laughter only served to further annoy him.

Tittering, Ronald sauntered away, leaving the two alone.

“Have I got a _what?!”_ Sebastian hissed, really not in the mood for more laughter at his expense. It would have been fine, except Grell had somehow managed to get at all of his pants, and had hidden anything and everything he could have used to get rid of the branding.

Soma masked a bark of laughter as a cough before recovering himself.

“C-Can you spare a sec?”

Sebastian followed the clearly giggling man, frowning as he realised where they were going.

He'd never been inside Ciel's room before. It was just as he expected it would be, though. A little larger than this own, and much nicer. Plush carpeting where his was wooden flooring, new-looking wallpaper where his was discoloured and peeling away, everything was a royal blue. There were two bookcases on opposite ends of the room, completely full. Not only with books but with figurines, a quite excessive amount of snowglobes, a flood of toys – _if Ciel had been conscious, he'd have made clear that they were_ collectables, _not toys –_ and so many different board games. There was a large desk, papers scattered across the surface, along with a myriad of sweet wrappers. The room itself was as messy as its inhabitant, clothes sprawled across the floor, the cupboard open and a mountain of broken toys tumbling out. He had an itching to start tidying up a little, just enough to actually be able to see the floor.

There was even an ensuite bathroom.

“He's sick.” Joker's voice pulled him back to the moment, and it was more the fact that Joker was there than his words that alarmed Sebastian.

Ciel did not like people in his room.

There were _five_ people in his room.

It was a good thing he was unconscious or he would have blown a gasket.

He was whiter than white. You could almost see the veins spiderwebbing beneath his skin, he was so pale. The sweat plastered his hair to his face and neck, the sheen making him look even more translucent. His chest heaved, and Sebastian could almost feel how painful every difficultly-drawn breath was.

“What's wrong with him? He was fine yesterday,” Sebastian stated, crossing over to take a closer look. Like every other person in the room had, he rested a hand on Ciel's forehead, frown deepening at the heat.

“He's got asthma or somethin'. Gets worse when he gets a cold, I guess,” Joker offered, shrugging one shoulder, “He had a session with Faustus, so I'm guessing he got tanked.”

Filing away the term for later investigation, Sebastian made to pick Ciel up, “I'll take him to the Infirmary.”

“ _NO!”_ four voices bellowed unanimously. Soma even jumped up from his seat.

He'd have argued, but Ciel chose that moment to worsen his gasping. It sounded like every breath was the first after drowning, resisting every step of the way to go to his lungs. Unconscious of his movements until he was actually doing them, Sebastian turned Ciel onto his side, and the wheezing thankfully subsided.

His clothes were soggy and the heat was literally radiating from his body.

After working at St. Victoria's as long as he had, Sebastian didn't argue, trusting that the patients knew what they were talking about, “So what do we do then?”

“He needs medicine,” Soma spoke up, “But more importantly, his inhaler.”

Sebastian was moving immediately, glancing around the room.

“Nah, mate. It ain't here. It got confiscated after... an _incident_ with Faustus.” 

Joker and Freckles started snickering, Soma grinning. At Sebastian's confused expression, Freckles enlightened him.

“Well, Smile don't like being touched, and Dr. Faustus can get real handsy with him. In his defense, Smile _did_ tell him to get his hands off. He didn't, so Smile made him. Let's just say that Dr. Faustus didn't wear glasses before that day.”

Joker cut off his laughter abruptly, “Yeah... it was funnier when he could breathe though...”

“His inhaler is somewhere in Dr. Faustus' office. Get some medicine from the Infirmary and get the inhaler, then get your ass back here before he suffocates or somethin',” Freckles instructed.

As much as he hated being ordered around by people younger than him, especially when they were copping an attitude for some reason, Sebastian heeded Freckles' words and was out of the ward in minutes.

 

 

۞

 

 

If Sebastian had been on such a mission a month before, he'd have been darting around corners, hiding behind plants and skulking in shadowed alcoves every step of the way. As it were, he had more than a little knowledge now, so walked the hallways free of fear. Laden with the essential flu treatments, cold compresses and cough medicine etc., he made his way towards Claude's office.

People who saw him in the corridors didn't ask why he wasn't at his post, didn't enquire as to why he had half the Infirmary's stock in his arms, didn't even demand to see identification. It was no longer odd to him; everyone went about their own business, and nobody asked questions about other peoples.

There was not a single camera in any corner either.

Dropping his loot into one of the chairs outside, Sebastian rapped on the door of Claude's office. He had a fleeting hope that maybe the man wasn't there, which was crushed as his dulcet tones granted him entrance.

“I'm sorry to bother you, Claude, but I was hoping you could spare a minute?” Plastering on his best for-the-boss smile, Sebastian shut the door behind him.

Claude was sat behind his desk, poring over some papers, and actually looked put-out. Well, if that wasn't almost an emotion. Miracles do happen.

“...I'm rather... _busy_ at the moment, Sebastian. What is it you need?” His tone was clipped, and Sebastian was fairly sure that was irritation in those amber eyes.

“Oh, I'm terribly sorry,” the sarcasm seemed to be lost on the bespectacled man, “But I just needed to enquire about the protocol for leaving the Hospital grounds? Agni tells me there's a process that needs to be gone through first.”

Every time Claude adjusted his glasses, Sebastian had to bite back his smirk, picturing Ciel spraying Claude right in the face with an inhaler. He could just see the smug expression on the boy's face, could imagine how very satisfied he must feel whenever he saw Claude donning his specs.

Claude appeared to be weighing the pros and cons of telling Sebastian to bite him. Clearly, the cons won out, and he gestured for Sebastian to take a seat.

“Given the importance of our work and for the patients' safety, security is rather tight. You'll need to submit a request for temporary leave, which the Chairmen have to authorise, before you can go. If it's not too personal a question, why exactly do you need so sudden a leave?”

He had to be careful of his answer there. After all, he didn't have any contact with the world outside of the Institute, so blagging a relatives death was out of the question. Besides, he had no intention of actually going anywhere, so it needed to be something easily cancelable.

“It's not terribly sudden; my sister was pregnant before I came here, getting on in months, and she'll have had the baby by now, I believe. I'll never hear the end of it if I don't show face at least once.”

He didn't have a sister, and he hated babies. He could easily forge a letter off his imaginary sister announcing her travels, making it impossible for him to meet up with them.

Claude nodded.

“I see. Excuse me a moment while I go get the necessary documents,” he stated, rising from his chair and leaving the room.

No sooner had the door clicked shut behind him than Sebastian was on his feet. Going by what little he knew of Claude Faustus, and half of that was Sebastian's musings on what an asshat he was, things like confiscated 'dangerous' items were probably kept in his desk.

Could the man  _be_ more predictable?

The inhaler was lying in an otherwise empty drawer, looking almost like a trophy given its own special place.

That wasn't creepy at all.

He shoved it in his pocket, closing the drawer. As he was crossing back around the desk to the chair, his hand grazed over the papers on Claude's desk, knocking them to the ground. Biting back a curse, he stooped down to pick them up.

Soma stared up at him listlessly from the discoloured photograph attached to one of the sheets of paper. His face was missing the usual beaming grin and shining eyes that Sebastian was so used to seeing, and maybe it was that that ignited his curiosity.

His eyes scanned the topmost paper.

 

_ **Thursday 29** **th** **March, 2008:** _

_Patient X27 displaying marginal improvements. Has been in Room 1800 for six days since the incident. In today's session, admitted to forming friendship with Aleister Chambers and asking Chambers to take him outside 'for fresh air'. However, still denies any acts of violence towards Chambers, insists that Chambers' death was completely accidental._

 

_ **Saturday 31 st March, 2008:** _

_Patient X27's emotional state deteriorating. Use of the wire caused severe panic and produced no positive results. He still maintains that Chambers' death was not his doing._

 

_ **Wednesday 4 th April, 2008:** _

_Patient X27 began pleading for bathing rights. His continued state of unclean is beginning to distress him. Possible guilt over his hand in Chambers' death, Chambers' blood still coating him an unwelcome reminder? Continue observation._

 

_ **Friday 22 nd April, 2008:** _

_Patient X27 has reverted to childlike behaviour. A ploy to lull into false sense of security? Monitor this. Refuses to answer any questions, rejecting food and drink, progressed overnight into rocking in the corner of the room and crying._

 

_ **Monday 8 th May, 2008:** _

_Patient X27 released from room 1800 after childlike behaviour ceased and he attempted to strangle Dr. Phipps. Granted a bath. Returned to ward. Continue observations, risk level raised to six point five._

 

 

It wasn't until Claude's approaching footsteps reached his ears that Sebastian tore his eyes away from the page, hurriedly replacing it on the desk and taking his seat. With difficultly, he trained his face back into its polite smile, trying to keep his panic at bay.

Soma had killed some former member of staff? After 'forming a friendship' with them?

Sebastian forced the thought from his mind, accepting the sheets Claude handed him with a smile and taking his leave from the office.

Agni wasn't necessarily in any danger. It could just be a misunderstanding. After all, Sebastian didn't have any faith in how 'mad' some of the patients were, no matter how much the other staff members would insist upon it. Why should he believe that Soma had murdered someone-

_blind faith in someone who may be planning to use Agni to get out of the ward and kill him as soon as? Agni didn't know, Agni couldn't know, Agni genuinely felt something for Soma (murderer) and wouldn't believe something like that even when Soma had his fingers wrapped around Agni's throat-_

he had to warn Agni.

 

 

۞

 

 

When Sebastian got back to Ciel's room, Soma was the only one there with the sick boy. He greeted Sebastian with a bright grin.

“Hey! Thought we were gonna have to send a search party out for you.”

Sebastian didn't answer, overly aware of just how close Soma's hands were to Ciel's neck.

Soma jumped up from his chair and Sebastian tensed.

“Here, gimme the inhale-”

“You can go,” Sebastian cut across, words sharp enough to cut, “I'll take care of him.”

Soma faltered, grin slipping away. The coldness of Sebastian's words and the unreadable look in his eyes stung the younger man, and he took a step back, putting a little space between them. He wondered for half a second if he'd angered Sebastian, but could think of nothing offensive he'd done.

Forcing his smile back into place, he decided Sebastian's mood was simply worry over Ciel, and his dismissing was simply because he wanted to be alone with the youngest boy, “Right. I'll see you later then, Sebastian.”

 

 

۞

 

 

“Ciel, wake up,” Sebastian said, shaking the boy's shoulder. His temperature had gone down a lot over the last two hour, thanks to the compress and what little medicine he'd managed to give Ciel during the short period he'd been awake earlier. During that period, Sebastian had been witness to something very few in the World could claim to have seen; a delirious Ciel Phantomhive.

Sebastian could honestly say it was the single most oddest thing he'd ever seen.

Ciel Phantomhive, in his experience, was serious, proud, independent and so many other things. He gave off an air of superiority without even trying, without it seeming conceited; it was simply how things were. He kept everyone at arms length and even that distance was a privilege. When he looked at you, you were the only person there, everyone else seemed to melt away.

Today, though, he was a child.

“C'mon – no, keep still – you have to take it,” Sebastian insisted, beyond exasperated. Still groggy, Ciel rolled over and buried his face in his pillow, effectively avoiding the spoon of medicine. Complaints of its taste were muffled by the cushion, and any time Sebastian attempted to roll him back over, Ciel just shuffled further away, closer and closer to the side of the bed.

Sebastian was starting to entertain the prospect of letting the little bugger just fall off.

“You take it!” Ciel snapped, tearing the cold compress from his forehead and whipping it at Sebastian's too-close hand. He had a full-on pout on his face now that would have mortified the usual Ciel.

“I'm not the one who's sick, Ciel,” Sebastian sighed, clinging to the last dregs of his patience.

“Neither am I!” The statement would have been more convincing if it hadn't trailed off into wheezing coughs. For the hundredth time, the boy sucked on the inhaler.

“Yes, you're the picture of perfect health.”

Sebastian took the momentary distraction to shove the spoon into Ciel's mouth, clamping a hand over his lips to make sure he didn't spit it back out. _Again._ Ciel took that as a chance to smack him around the face with the compress. _Again._

If he'd known how much effort playing nurse was going to be, he'd have left Soma to take care of the brat, murderer or not.

His mind was still reeling over the information, and he decided to take advantage of Ciel's current state to get some answers he probably wouldn't have gotten if the boy was healthy and aware. Still, even sick and acting like a five year old, Ciel was still Ciel, so subtlety was called for.

Ciel, fully medicated, curled back up on the bed. If the glare was anything to go by, the boy was sulking.

“I heard a name today. Aleister Chambers. I think he used to be a member of staff here?”

Ciel's glare worsened.

“He was a complete and utter ponce.”

Sebastian cocked a brow.

“You weren't fond of him then?”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“Any particular reason?”

Ciel shrugged, rubbing his nose on his sleeve.

“'Cause he was just irritating.”

“I was under the impression you found everyone irritating,” Sebastian couldn't help stating.

“You're irritating,” Ciel muttered beneath his breath, sitting up and rooting through a drawer in his bedside cabinet. He looked more and more depressed as his hand went deeper, until he let out a cry of victory, pulling his hand back out.

“Thanks... So I heard he was rather close with your friend, Soma?”

Pulling the wrapper off the lollipop, Ciel examined it closely before sticking it in his mouth, “Soma? Not particularly. Don't think they ever said two words to each other, actually.”

Sebastian didn't question Ciel's honesty. In the less-than-pristine state he was in, Ciel had no reason to lie, and even if he was fully healthy, Sebastian still would have believed his words. He'd already invested too much in the boy not to trust him, after all.

Still, he had his doubts. Sebastian knew perfectly well that, at least before he started working at the Institute, Ciel had spent most of his time in his room. Soma could have befriended Chambers without Ciel's knowledge. It was hardly as though Ciel made other people's friendships his business.

He had enough doubts to be worried for Agni.

 

 

۞

 

 

“Hey, Sebastian. How's Smile doin'?” Freckles asked, closing the door behind her. She was over her previous bad mood already, just glad that Ciel had gotten his inhaler back. He looked much better than before. He wasn't panting for breaths anymore, some colour had come back into his face and he was sleeping soundly.

“Much better. He'll probably sleep through the night now,” Sebastian yawned, stretching out of the hard plastic chair. Taking care of the boy was much easier when he wasn't conscious.

“It's almost eight, so I'll take over for ya. Figure I'll just crash in here.”

“Right,” Sebastian rolled his shoulders to get rid of the stiffness, “I'll check in tomorrow then. Good night.”

“W-wait!”

Sebastian paused at the door, looking back over his shoulder at the uncomfortable-looking girl.

“Hm?”

“Um... just... thanks, y'know. You, er, you really helped us out... G'night.” She turned her back to him, but not quick enough to hide her slowly reddening face. Sebastian chuckled, leaving the room.

It was on his back towards the dorm building that Sebastian came across Agni, who greeted him with a cheerful wave.

They chatted work for a while as they made their to their rooms, and it was when Agni mentioned Soma, and smiled so damn happily, that Sebastian snapped.

“Stay away from Soma.”

The words were out of his mouth before he'd even thought about them, more a sharp order than a simple request. Agni's face fell, but not into a frown. A frown Sebastian could have handled, a frown Sebastian was expecting.

Agni _glared._

Sebastian had known Agni for so many years now, had certainly pissed the man off with his cockiness and flakiness plenty of times, had endured exasperated lectures from him whenever a woman he spurned took out her hurt on Agni, had been insensitive and just a downright asshole to him sometimes, yet Agni had never glared at him before.

“Look, I can't explain how I know, but... he's dangerous, Agni. He's _using_ you. If you let him, then he's going to _hurt_ you-” Sebastian hurried to explain himself, but Agni was hearing none of it. The usually impeccably polite man ceased the flow of words with a sharp wave of his hand, grey eyes hardening.

“Enough.”

It was a single word, but said with such ferocious anger that even Sebastian had to step back. A part of him, a part that was getting increasingly larger as Agni's glare grew more venomous, was angered that Agni was trusting Soma over _him._ Had they not been friends for years? Had Sebastian not helped him get through some of the most difficult moments in his life? And yet Agni was willing to place more trust in a person he barely knew, had barely known for such a short time?

“Fine. What happens has nothing to do with me,” Sebastian snapped.

He washed his hands of the matter.

 

 

۞


	9. Chapter 9

۞

 

**Chapter Nine**

 

۞

 

 

Steady hands cracking it open in a skilful way rarely seen in that kitchen, the egg dropped into the pan without a single scrap of shell. The yolk sizzled, breaking the silence in the room, and soon enough several strips of bacon joined the fray.

Ah, perfection. Not a single smell of burning, either.

“Yo, Sebastian!” Bard strode through the kitchen doors, grinning widely, ever-present cigarette hanging unlit from his teeth. His chef's apron was already stained an ashy black.

“Smoking in bed again, I see,” Sebastian observed, filling the kettle.

Bard's grin turned sheepish.

“Heh... well, y'know, these uniforms, bloody flammable....”

“Coffee?” Sebastian asked as the water boiled, moving around Bard fluidly while the blond began his own breakfast.

“That'd be crackin'. Want me to take care of that for ya?” He gestured to Sebastian's masterpiece.

“No. Don't even look at it.”

There was a theory circulating the asylum that Bard's mere gaze could turn the most exquisite of delicacies into poison. Sebastian was a firm believer in it.

Sebastian had become something of a permanent fixture in St. Victoria's kitchens over the past two weeks. His ongoing argument with Agni had only worsened in that time. It was probably the already present annoyance there that made him abandon any semblance of manners in favour of edible meals and outright demand that Bard let him make his own. Half expecting to be flamethrower'd, he was pleasantly surprised when Bard just told him to 'knock himself out' and happily handed over ingredients. Since then, Sebastian had been coming down every morning to the kitchens and having breakfast with them. While certainly not his first choice in company, they were a lot more tolerable morning companions than Will and his death traps or Grell and his... well, he was a trap in and of himself.

“That fucktard Ash was down here yesterday. Gave me a right lecture about sanitation and how I 'must use the proper cooking utensils'. Bollocks to him, man's never used a fork for more than food, I'll tell you that!”

Bard was of the opinion that if you hadn't circumcised a man with a spoon by the time you were twelve then you just couldn't call yourself a man.

“And get this; the prissy SOB said they're cutting my funding! 'More important things, a drain on our resources, blah blah blah'.” Sebastian was quite a fan of Bard's Ash impression. It was quite on the mark.

“He's not _your_ boss. Surely he doesn't have the power to cut your funding?”

“That's what I said! Where he gets off preaching to me...” Bard trailed off in an aggravated mutter, skewering the food formally known as sausage. No doubt he was imagining it was a certain lilac-eyed man.

As Sebastian sat down at the table, the other two musketeers dragged themselves into the room. Finny dropped into a chair and let his head fall to the table with a dull _thunk!_ Meirin wasn't even conscious enough to blush when Sebastian greeted her.

They soon woke up when Bard skidded their plates across the table to them. Honestly, the two had stomachs of steel, and god knows what unearthly substance their teeth were made from.

“It's hardly as though they gave me that much in the first place, yanno?”

Finny blinked sleepily up at Bard, shovelling the food clumsily into his mouth, “Whatcha talking about?”

“The Pillock.”

His maiden name, of course.

“Huh? You too?” Meirin exclaimed, “Angela came to see me yesterday! She said the cost of the plates that got broken are coming out of my pay cheque.”

“Me too! She said my mowing was uneven and told me to use a ruler.”

Sebastian was fairly sure Finny had never touched a ruler in his life. His baffled expression only reinforced that.

The entirety of breakfast was spent bitching about the siblings, and Sebastian found he didn't mind all that much. Yes, the trio was far from his usual type of company. Bard's overall coarseness and fondness towards all things flammable, Finny's excessively childish disposition and Meirin's complete inability to look him in the eye without her head imploding were dampeners, that was for certain. However, he found himself becoming, if not warmed up to those attributes, at least accustomed to them.

Well, there were worse ways to spend a morning.

 

 

۞

 

It wasn't snowing. It should have been, but that's English weather for you.

For as long as he could remember, Snake had always abhorred Christmas. There was just something about the day itself that he simply couldn't tolerate.

Maybe it was the good cheer. Don't get the wrong impression; Snake could be very cheerful, though most found it hard to tell, and liked other people to be too. It was contagious, a smile, a thing he very much liked to see. However, the good cheer at Christmas was just so... _false._ Adults spending money they didn't have on toys their kids didn't want but would have to pretend to like. Well, _should_ pretend to like, though most didn't opt for sparing the gift-givers feelings. The awkward and tense social gatherings of in-laws who hated each other but acted otherwise, with hugs like punches and kisses like bites, asking how their year had been and feeling sorely disappointed to learn their house _hadn't_ burnt down.

Maybe it was the fakeness of the holiday itself. The image of Christmas was one of warmth, massive banquets, a beautiful sheet of snow falling at just the right time, family and friends banding together. In all his twenty years, not one of his Christmases had been like that. Not that he expected them to be, but it was certainly false advertising.

Even the religious aspects of the season were lost on him, faith not something he ever recalled possessing. He didn't even believe in Santa Clause.

Maybe if it had snowed last night, he'd feel better, Snake thought as he stared out the window. He usually avoided looking out the window, the thick bars across the glass caging him in and making him restless, but he always made an exception in December. Maybe that second he looked would be the second the first snowflake would fall.

With a small sigh, Snake tore his eyes from the window, rolling onto his side. The arms around his waist tightened, and he felt a little better.

“No snow,” Drocell murmured, and it wasn't even a question anymore.

“No snow,” Snake confirmed, inching closer to his companion until their chests were touching and their breaths were mingling.

“Snowin' in Alaska,” Drocell yawned, words slurred with sleep, “Lot o' snow there.”

Snake always loved a sleepy Drocell. His violet eyes hazy and unfocused, copper hair a shaggy mess, and always so much more clingy than he ever let himself be any other time. Not that his partner was particularly distant, but he was so very careful to keep any physical contact, even the slightest brush of hands, to a minimum outside of their rooms. God forbid any of the staff knew, knew to use this against them.

“Definitely Christmas in Alaska then.”

“Pagans, whole lot of 'em.”

Snake much preferred the idea of Winter Solstice than Christmas. No particular reason, maybe the name was just better to him. Drocell had told him all about it back on their first Christmas together. Honestly, Snake could remember little of the details, but the name had such a nice ring to it.

A crash from outside the door set them both on guard, all sleepiness abandoning the elder man as his arms tightened further around Snake.

A rapping on the door, vaguely resembling _Jingle Bells_ but only vaguely, had them relaxing.

“A lady's present, let's keep it PG, boys!” Without further warning, Joker flung the door open and bounced into the room with a grin. Beast followed behind him, ready to shield her eyes if she needed to, looking as happy as Drocell at the early morning call.

“How can you sleep in on Christmas?! Up, up!” No matter how many years had passed, Joker's December enthusiasm had yet to let up in the slightest.

Beast nearly nodded off where she stood, until Joker grabbed her hand and pulled her from the room, no doubt to harass everyone else too.

“He's not human, getting up so early in the morning,” Drocell grumbled as he pulled himself out of the bed, dragging a hand through his dishevelled hair. Snake followed suit, already missing the warmth of sleep. Once they were more-or-less dressed, they trudged into the leisure room.

Joker had worked his way around the bedrooms and roused almost everyone, the groggy masses collapsing onto the couches and chairs, cursing their unofficial leader and his impenetrable good cheer.

Soma was the only one unaffected by the early hour, bouncing up and down in his seat and humming some mishmash of Christmas songs off-key. Everyone in the room collectively damned him to hell.

“Ow – come on, Smile, it's – okay, put the toy down, it's pointy – sorry, collecta – Yeesh, fine, man!” Joker huffed, skidding out of Ciel's room and just missing the door hitting his arse as it swung shut.

It was an annual thing. No-one would have bothered if it weren't for Joker, and it wasn't as though anyone else really exchanged gifts apart from him. He was doing his rounds now, handing out little things he shouldn't have had that he'd accumulated over the year; books that weren't paperback and so faded you couldn't make out the words, comics, new hair and toothbrushes, _real_ soap, not that industrial crap they usually got, even food that was deemed too nice for them. Joker made sure everyone got something, and something they'd want, the only reason he wasn't flogged for dragging them up at eight in the morning.

Snake accepted his gifts with a small quirk of the lips, “Thank you.” Christmas may not have been his favourite time of year, far from it, but what Joker was doing had very little to do with the actual season, and he couldn't have been more grateful for it.

More than the little trinkets Joker handed them with a grin, he was giving them a sense of normalcy despite their title of _patient_ , the idea that they were doing the same thing people all over the world were doing.

It was nice to feel normal every once in a while.

“Incoming!” Soma hollered from over by the door, hiding his stash beneath him on the chair. Everyone else followed suit as the familiar beeping rang out and the ward door opened, the staff on shift spilling in. When the purple-haired man saw who was coming in first, his eyes narrowed, but a smug smirk formed on his lips.

“Mornin', Sebby!” Soma greeted, overtly cheerful.

He'd been hurt, at first. Ever since that day Ciel had been sick, something had changed between him and Sebastian. At least, something had changed in Sebastian. He was fairly sure he'd done nothing to warrant such blatant hostility. It was almost scary, how cold Sebastian had become. Sure, they'd hardly been bosom buddies or anything before, but they'd at least gotten along. Now? Now, Soma was certain Sebastian wouldn't piss on him if he were on fire. And a lot of his fellow patients were pyromaniacs.

If there was one thing he was certain of, it was that Sebastian was doing everything he could to keep him away from Ciel. Well, he could go straight to hell. Screw him and his mancrush, he was Ciel's best friend – _despite what Ciel and Alois said to the contrary –_ and some bipolar pretty-boy wasn't going to change that any time soon. Although, his increasing clinginess to Ciel was probably annoying Ciel more than it was Sebastian. Still, a point had to be made! Sebastian could glower all he wanted, which he certainly was, but he wasn't going to change anything.

Hurt had quickly made way for anger when Soma had learnt that Sebastian was the cause for Agni being so out of sorts lately. Sebastian being an ass to him was one thing, but he was meant to be Agni's friend. Best friend, if Agni's fond words over the past few years were any indication. That was another thing entirely.

Sebastian didn't scare him, that much anyway, and he wouldn't chase him away.

“They... got along just fine, if I remember. I wonder if something has happened,” Snake mumbled to his companion, watching the exchange of glares between Sebastian and Soma in puzzlement. Drocell followed his gaze.

“Odd.”

It was the way he said the single word that threw Snake off.

“...Drocell?”

He was looking unusually thoughtful. Drocell thought non-stop, but he rarely _showed_ it. He blinked slowly, dragging his eyes from Sebastian.

“I can't help wondering... the longer stays in The Room, Peter's death, Joker's arm... Yes, they harmed us before, but there was at least a degree of subtlety, but now...” It was more like Drocell was talking to himself than to Snake, but Snake listened ardently, a knot forming in his stomach, “We knew something was changing... but when did it _start?”_

Snake was being addressed now, and his brow furrowed.

“The changes?”

“Hm.”

“I... I'm not sure.” That was the truth. Snake did his best to block everything but them out of his mind. It was the easiest way to sleep at night.

Drocell's eyes crawled back to Sebastian, “...I reason that it began shortly after that man started working here.”

 

 

۞

 

 

“Oh, here.” Sebastian sat up in the chair, grabbing the post-it note from his back pocket and handing it to Ciel. Ciel rolled onto his side, plucking the note from Sebastian's fingers. He quickly scanned it, rolled his eye exasperatedly, and put it on the bedside cabinet.

Ever since Finny had learnt of Sebastian's friendship, if that was the right word, with Ciel, he'd adopted Sebastian as messenger boy and constantly gave him sweets and notes to pass over to the boy. Before, he'd have just said no, but since no-one was going to see now, Sebastian saw no harm in it. Besides, whatever Finny was writing on the notes sometimes elicited the most curious expressions from Ciel that he probably wouldn't have seen otherwise. He was sorely tempted to read the notes himself.

A few days after Ciel had been sick, he'd learnt of Sebastian having been in his room. Sebastian had expected him to blow a fuse, yes, but he'd hardly thought he'd be quite _that_ angry. Throwing a few choice words Sebastian's way, Ciel had disappeared into his room and not re-emerged for a good three days. Then, apparently over whatever little hissy-fit he was throwing, he _invited_ Sebastian inside. Of course, the door had to be left open, but Sebastian didn't fail to see the significance of Ciel's invitation. Sure, people like Alois and Soma burst in whenever they wanted to despite the less-than-welcoming reception they received, but Sebastian had been invited. Was some of the trust he'd invested in the boy being returned, at least a little?

Sometimes they played a variety of the games Ciel had at hand. Sometimes they just talked.

Today, Ciel was in one of his rare talkative moods.

“Tell me about yourself,” Ciel more commanded than requested, looking very at ease lounged on his bed.

Sebastian blinked up from the book he'd been reading, found amongst the mess on the floor. One of these days _someone_ was going to have to tidy up. He doubted very much it would be the owner of the mass of crap.

Shaking his head with a smirk, Sebastian replied, “You wouldn't find my story very interesting.”

Ciel tossed him a scathing look.

“You think I waste time on people I'm not interested in?”

_Well._ He hadn't expected that. Coming from Ciel Phantomhive, that was quite the incredible compliment. Succeeding in keeping the smugness from his face, Sebastian relented.

“Alright. I was born in Los Angeles. I've never known my Father, never particularly wanted to, and I get along well with my Mother. We were neither rich nor poor, moved around a lot for her work, and we eventually settled down in New York where I got a good education. Once I left college, I started moving around a lot on my own to wherever a job I wanted was. Now I'm here. Like I said, nothing terribly exciting there.”

Ciel nodded, chewing on the nail of his thumb, a habit of his that made Sebastian wince.

“Hmm. So, where during the 'good education' did you meet Agni?”   
Sebastian frowned. Seeing that, Ciel continued, “You used to mention him quite often. Lately it's like the name is taboo. What, have the two of you had a little lover's spat?”

Uncomfortable with where the conversation had turned to, Sebastian decided a topic change was in order.

“We're... having a misunderstanding. Nothing serious. So, what about you? What's your story?”

Sebastian didn't miss the way Ciel tensed, biting down on his thumb hard enough to draw blood, before he answered, “What was the misunderstanding?”

Annoyance surged up at the blatant dismissal of his question.

“Nothing of significance,” Sebastian bit out, the sharp tone making it clear more questions weren't welcome.

“Significant enough to stop the two of you talking though.” Ciel, unsurprisingly, chose to ignore the warning tone.

“Clearly. Are you going to answer my question?”

Ciel rolled his eye mockingly, “Contrary to popular belief, I'm quite the boring topic. Ask another question, maybe I'll answer it.”

It was out of his mouth before he could stop it.  
“Another question? Alright. Fine. How about you tell me about The Fire?”

The colour drained from Ciel's face at an almost comical rate, and Sebastian cursed his irritation getting the better of him. He just couldn't help it though. Never before had he invested as much in a person as he had those past few months with Ciel, and he was getting tired of the  _take, take, take._ He never answered questions, and on the so rare they were non-existent occasions he did, it was in bloody riddles and hints. He'd  _let him out of the ward_ for Christ's sake! And with his albeit limited knowledge of what St. Victoria's was like, he doubted getting fired was the worst punishment for insubordination. He'd taken a risk in the boy; would it kill him to return a shred of the trust Sebastian had given? 

“You've... read my file.”

It wasn't a question, and unsure what to say, Sebastian stayed silent.

A wicked smirk fell over Ciel's face, “I wasn't aware Orderlies had those rights.”

Sebastian knew he'd crossed a line, but damn it all if he was going to back down.

“Surely nothing about this place surprises you anymore? I've answered your question. In fact, I've answered every single question you've ever put to me. Isn't it about time you answered one or two?” Sebastian challenged.

The smirk flickered, more plastic than anything else, and Ciel was just looking right through him now.

“Leave.”

 

 

۞

 

 

If you had walked down the twelfth hallway on the third floor of St. Victoria's Staff Dormitory on Saturday 25 th December 2010, you'd have seen a man with a face of thunder. His annoyance with the world was positively palpable, complete frustration in every step he took. You'd have done well to turn heel and run, because that man was not one whose path you wanted to cross that day. 

Sebastian stormed down the hall. First Agni, now Ciel, who the hell else could he completely piss off? Well, he still didn't think the whole Agni thing was his fault. It was Agni who was refusing to even look in Sebastian's direction, just because Sebastian actually gave a damn about what happened to him, and not many people could claim that.

Ciel, though... well, that  _may_ have been his fault,  _a little._ Still, he did have a point. Sure, he probably shouldn't have let slip he'd read the brat's file. Probably shouldn't have  _asked_ about something he'd read in it. Especially when it was obviously a sensitive topic –  _what the hell wasn't with the brat though –_ but even so, he did have a point. He was damn tired of knowing nothing about Ciel yet being expected to go along with whatever he said, and-

Sebastian paused mid-step. His head was swimming, and he stumbled over to the wall for support before he fell to the ground. His throat closed up and he couldn't breathe, panic swelling in his chest. No-one was around to help, he couldn't breathe let alone call for help, and-

then it stopped. Air flooded his lungs, his head cleared and his feet were once more steady.

The abrupt sickness was gone, but unease remained, twisting his stomach into knots. On edge, Sebastian pushed off from the wall and continued back to his room.

 

 

۞

 

 

Steady hands cracking it open in a skilful way rarely seen in that kitchen, the egg dropped into the pan without a single scrap of shell. The yolk sizzled, breaking the silence in the room, and soon enough several strips of bacon joined the fray.

Ah, perfection. Not a single smell of burning, either.

“Yo, Sebastian!” Bard strode through the kitchen doors, grinning widely, ever-present cigarette hanging unlit from his teeth. His chef's apron was already stained an ashy black.

“Smoking in bed again, I see,” Sebastian observed, filling the kettle.

Bard's grin turned sheepish.

“Heh... well, y'know, these uniforms, bloody flammable....”

“Coffee?” Sebastian asked as the water boiled, moving around Bard fluidly while the blond began his own breakfast.

He paused as he went to sit down at the table, that same uneasiness from the previous night coiling around him again. That sickness hadn't returned, and he'd felt right as rain that morning, but something didn't feel right. He just couldn't put his finger on _what._

“You won't believe this. Ash came to see me _again_ yesterday. He's signed me up for some fire safety course! Utterly ridiculous. I know how to use fire safely,” Bard ranted, divvying up the food between two plates.

Sebastian frowned.

“Why are you only setting two plates?” he asked, and Bard paused mid-rant to give him a confused look. Before Bard could reply, Meirin stumbled into the kitchen, and Bard handed her one of the plates, sitting down himself with the other. Sebastian glanced over at the doorway for the missing player, but no-one else came through the door.

“Where's Finny?” Sebastian asked Meirin. After her usual fluster that Sebastian was actually talking to her had passed, she scrunched her nose and gave a breathy laugh.

“What do you mean? Who's Finny?”

Sebastian looked over to Bard, expecting to see a bemused expression to match his own, but his face was a mirror of Meirin's.

“Alright. What's the punchline?” Sebastian sighed, half-expecting Finny to jump out from behind the door, to laugh with the others at the joke. No-one jumped from behind the door, though, and there was no amusement in either of the faces looking at him. Only growing concern.

“What're you talking about, man? You feeling okay?” Bard asked with a worried frown.

The unease that had coiled around Sebastian tightened. There was no joke here. God knows none of them could lie to save their lives. They... genuinely didn't know who Finny was.

 

 

۞


	10. Chapter 10

۞

 

**Chapter Ten**

 

۞

 

 

“Man, this place has really gone to the dogs since last time, huh?” Freckles commented, scrunching up her nose as she glanced around the garden. Ciel nodded absently, eye roving the unkempt lawn. She was entirely right. As far as he remembered, the gardens were always surprisingly nice, considering where they were. Sure, a little messy, but still tasteful. Now leaves coated the ground like a carpet, the bushes were haggard and in desperate need of a trim, the branches of the trees starting to become gnarled.

Even the bench the two sat on was dirt-encrusted.

“They should get a gardener or somethin'.”

Ciel just nodded absently again, barely listening to what she was saying, so Freckles stood up with a sigh and ran over to join Dagger and Jumbo.

Ciel frowned as she left, the pounding at his temples making its presence known once again. With a hiss, he pinched the bridge of his nose and bade the headache away. For the past two days, his head had been splitting, no matter how much he tried to sleep it off.

Stupid Sebastian.

The headache was, of course, Sebastian's fault. In fact, anything that happened that Ciel didn't like lately was Sebastian's fault.

Stupid Sebastian and his stupid sticking his nose where it didn't belong.

How the hell had he even gotten his hands on his file, anyway? For fucks sake, Claude, get a lock for your drawer.

Ciel tossed his legs up onto the bench, laying down for a bit of cloud-watching.

He didn't know what exactly was in the file. It wasn't as though _he_ had ever had the opportunity to read it. Somehow he doubted he'd want to if the chance presented itself. Still, Sebastian had known about The Fire... If he knew about The Fire, what else could he know about?

_Them?_ What they'd done, or worse, what  _he'd_ done?

The thought chilled him. More than he'd imagined it would. It went without saying that he didn't want anyone knowing what he'd done, but why did the prospect of Sebastian  knowing twist his stomach into knots so much? 

_Seriously? Playing blind can only go so far. You know perfectly well_ why-

Ciel bolted upright on the bench with a snarl, banishing the little voice from his head.

 

 

۞

 

 

He'd long since surpassed confusion and was well into the realm of completely fucking baffled.

With a well-practised ease, Sebastian smoothed the frown from his face, the usual slight smirk taking its place.

Either every single person in St. Victoria's was a master liar or not a single person knew who Finnian was. It had been a long morning of cornering staff, both those he knew and those who didn't even register in his mind, and trying to wheedle any slight hint of foul play from them. So far, he'd received nothing but blank faces and concern for his well-being.

He doubted they were all lying. Even if they were masterful in the craft, enough so to catch him out by some miracle, there was the question of  _why Finny?_ After all, the boy was nothing but a minor character in the grand scale of things. The none-too-bright gardener was hardly an important player. So why would he be targeted by whatever was going on? 

Better yet, why was Sebastian the sole exception?

It had been just over a week since his fight with Ciel, and Finny's disappearance. Although Ciel had made in perfectly clear in that time that he had no intentions of reconciliation, Sebastian threw caution to the wind and made his way over to the boy's room.

Ciel was the expert of St. Victoria's, its veteran patient. If anyone could shine some light on the situation, it would be him. If he hadn't been affected, that is.

“What the... Get out!” Ciel snapped as Sebastian strode into his bedroom, ignoring protocol and closing the door behind him. He ignored the boy's indignant spluttering, walking up to the desk where Ciel was sat, looking him dead in the eye.

“Finny.”

One word was all it took for Sebastian to know that whatever was going on had happened to Ciel too. There was no recognition in his eye at the name of his friend, just a flicker of confusion amidst the annoyance Sebastian's presence caused.

“What?” It was quite astounding how much irritation Ciel could inject into the one short word.

Ignoring him, Sebastian ran a hand through his hair, dropping onto the edge of his bed. The sheer amount of exasperation and anger was like a ton of bricks falling on him, and he needed a moment to clear his head.

This was getting ridiculous. People didn't just _vanish_ off the face of the planet! A person couldn't just be _erased_ like that! Sebastian had found no-one like himself who remembered the blond, found no trace of him within St. Victoria's. Yet he remembered, remembered only a week earlier when he'd sat and had breakfast with him, talked to him, endured his bubbliness with far more patience than he usually would have. He clung to that memory as he raised his head to return Ciel's impatient look, and tried again, “Finny.”

“Why do you keep making that noise?”

No. There was nothing. No spark of recognition, just more confusion than before.

“It's a name, Ciel. Your friend's name,” Sebastian stated, watching his face intently for any sign of... of _anything._ The only thing he saw was Ciel's increasing discomfort under such blatant scrutiny.

“What the hell are you talking about? I don't know anyone called that... Has Grell slipped you something?” Ciel leaned forward in his chair, returning the assessment with mild amusement.

Sebastian almost shuddered at the idea. Honestly, if he hadn't have taken a leaf from Will's book and started booby-trapping his room after the unfortunate pants incident, he wouldn't have put it past the deranged redhead to do just that.

“Look, this is going to sound weird – it _is_ weird – but just listen, alright? You're mad at me, I get that, and if you really want to then we'll talk about it later-”

“There's nothing to talk about. You had no right-”

“ _Listen._ Up until a week ago, there was a man – Finny, Finnian, whatever – working here. He was the gardener. The two of you got along, it wouldn't be completely wrong to say you were friends. But a week ago, he... he disappeared. Not just disappeared, but it... it's like... it's like he was never here at all. It looks like I'm the only one who remembers him.”

He was going to say more, but stopped as he gauged Ciel's reaction. He'd expected the boy to laugh in his face, make some sarcastic comment, something along those lines. He did none of that. Rather than mirth on his face, there was pity.

Before Sebastian could continue, Ciel shook his head, “There's no 'Finny', Sebastian.”

“...Yes. There is.”

“No. It's only to be expected. This place, it does things to your head. Believe me, I know. Quite a weird little fantasy you're cooking up, I have to say, but it's just that; a fantasy.” Ciel's words were laced with the same pity that lay in his eye, the traces of anger from before draining away as he looked at Sebastian like there was something wrong with him.

Alright, he hadn't expected Ciel to just agree with him straight away, but what the hell was this? The brat was talking to him like _he_ was the mental patient!

“Environment effects mind. It's a proven fact. I'm actually surprised it took this long for the place to start taking its toll. Take the day off, get some sleep, rethink this Finny thing tomorrow when your mind is more rested.”

It was unbearable, the sympathetic and downright patronizing tone used to spoon-feed him advice. He didn't want rest, he didn't _need_ rest. This wasn't some side-effect of being in the Institution too long – or was it?

Sebastian tore his eyes from Ciel as the seed of doubt the boy had planted began to grow.

He was the only one to remember Finny. It was simply logical that if he was the only one saying Finny was real while a dozen other people were saying the opposite, then he was the one in the wrong. After all, there was no conceivable way for every single person, bar him, to suddenly forget a person's existence. It was completely impossible for every trace of that person to disappear, for the person to disappear. Maybe Ciel was right. Maybe _he_ was wrong, maybe St. Victoria's really was doing something to his head. Hell, most of the staff were insane themselves. Maybe they hadn't been when they'd first gotten the jobs-

A scrap of bright yellow caught Sebastian's eye and that train of thought was derailed.

“What's that?” Ciel asked as Sebastian darted around him and grabbed something from the floor next to his desk.

_'OH NO SHE FOND OUT SHES NOT REALLY GABYS DAUGTER!!!'_

There was no mistaking it; the spelling errors, the abuse of exclamation marks, the messy doodles clustering around the words. This was Finny's writing, the post-it note he'd asked Sebastian to pass on to Ciel just before he disappeared.

“It's from Finny. Read it,” Sebastian borderline ordered, brandishing the little yellow note in Ciel's face.

This time Ciel really did laugh at him.

“Well, I have to hand it to you. That is dedication to your little mental lapse. Going so far as planting 'evidence' in my room.”

“ _Just read it.”_

Ciel's snickering ceased at the growl, the same irritation from earlier seeping back.

“I don't appreciate the tone, Sebastian. Ask nicely or don't ask at all.”

Sebastian's patience was wearing thin. If Ciel would just read the _fucking_ note, stop being a brat for five seconds and do what he was told for once, Sebastian knew things would turn around. He wasn't even sure why he was so convinced the note would help. Maybe because it was the only scrap of Finny he could find. Surely there was some significance that it belonged to Ciel?

“Ciel, will you read it?” Sebastian swallowed his surging annoyance, attempting to sound reasonable and civil. Either Ciel was still pissed off over the whole file thing or he was just in a obstinate mood, as he simply smirked in the face of Sebastian's herculean effort to stay calm.

“What's the magic word?”

If he weren't so determined to stay on the little bast... brat's good side, he'd have punched him.

If only to wipe the smug look off his face, Sebastian conjured up a smirk of his own, “Please?”

“Was that so hard?” Ciel gave a long-suffering sigh, holding his hand out for the note. Sebastian pushed it into his palm with more force than necessary. He _sincerely_ hoped Ciel's fingers weren't as brittle as they looked.

With an exaggerated effort, making it perfectly clear that he was humouring Sebastian and nothing more, Ciel brought to note up to eye-level.

Later on, he'd rank the sudden fire behind his eyes as he absorbed the words on the post-it as the third worst physical pain he'd ever felt. No sooner had he finished scanning the short sentence had the lingering headache surged, so intense he'd actually thought he could be bleeding from the ears.

_Finny-_

The note drifted to the floor as his hands shot up to clutch at his head, nails digging into the translucent skin and scratching, clawing, wanting to break through the barrier and drag the source of the pain away. A hot dampness ran down his face in rivulets, and then Sebastian's hands were gripping his wrists, forcing his hands away from his head, stopping him from doing himself any more harm.

_FinnyFinnyFinny-_

He could hear Sebastian repeating his own name, _Ciel!,_ but it was like he was underwater, the voice distant and indistinguishable. All he could think of was the blinding heat inside his head, shining blue eyes that never once judged him despite knowing everything and even back then when he'd been at his worst had never once treated him like anything other than a person-

_FINNYFINNYFINNYFINNY-_

And then the pain was gone in one final white hot flash, and Ciel could hear himself, voice hoarse and too loud, shouting Finny's name over and over.

Ciel sagged, abruptly silencing, and it was all Sebastian could do to keep him from crashing face first into the floor. Touching him as little as possible, he pushed the boy back onto the chair, hands hovering, ready to catch him if he still wasn't steady.

After a few minutes of silence, Sebastian disappeared into the bathroom to grab a cloth, dampening it under the sink. That... had been a little more than he'd expected. He was relieved, of course, that Ciel had remembered Finny, but damn, that had looked painful. His face had contorted into pure agony, his breaths harsh and panicked. Then he'd gone and started clawing at his own face, viciously enough to not only draw blood but keep it flowing steadily even after Sebastian had pried his hands away. He'd been so out of it he hadn't even flinched at being touched.

Sebastian had been worried someone was going to come barrelling in once Ciel had started screaming bloody murder, Alois or Soma ready to defend their friend's honour or something, but thankfully no-one seemed to hear. That in itself was suspicious, since Ciel had hardly been quiet, but Sebastian decided to accept the smallest mercy without questioning it. God knows there were already enough questions on the table.

When he left the bathroom, Ciel was still sat where Sebastian had left him, though he had the post-it note clutched in his fist. He didn't look up as Sebastian approached, nor did he shy away when the dripping cloth was brought up to his face. Ciel sat there quietly as Sebastian wiped off the still wet blood, only moving to slap away his hand when he'd tried to remove the eye-patch.

Sebastian was growing a little worried at Ciel's hollow silence, was considering going to get Joker or one of the others to see if they might be able to elicit a response from him, when a low growl sounded from the boy.

It was feral, carrying in it far more anger than any words could have. Now Sebastian looked more closely and saw that Ciel's shoulders were trembling. He thought for a minute that maybe he was crying until Ciel's head snapped up. That single eye had never looked more blue than it did in that moment, burning with absolute fury.

“What have they done to Finny?” Continuing in the low growl, each word shaking from the sheer lividity, “What did they do to _me?!”_

 

 

۞

 

 

“Has anything like this ever happened before?” Sebastian asked, turning on his heel and pacing the room once again. He couldn't sit down. He was far too restless. At least as he moved, it felt like he was doing _something._

“Not as far as I know,” Ciel replied, but Sebastian noticed that his words missed their usual self-assuredness. The boy had calmed down a little now, had fallen into a calm quiet that was unnerving him a bit. Sitting bolt upright on his bed, he clutched the post-it note like it was the only thing tethering him to Earth.

He was shaken, to his core. Whether it was the fact that he'd been made to forget Finny, or whether it was just that he'd been made to forget at all, the boy was spooked.

“...Do you think he might be in The Room?” Sebastian ventured, voicing what he was beginning to dread.

Ciel looked about to speak, hesitated, then finally murmured, “It's a possibility.”

“Is another rescue mission in order?”

Ciel didn't answer, and Sebastian didn't push him, resuming his pacing. He'd wanted Ciel to tell him no, there was no chance Finny was in The Room. After all, he was staff. That place was only for patients, right? He didn't want to go back to that room, to see Finny with half his arm burned away and weeping like a child. Yet... a part of him _did._ Not to see Finny like that – no, he had no desire for that, of course. It was just that the last time, when he and Ciel had gone to get Joker, he'd been so distracted by what was going on that he didn't really _see_ The Room. Sure, there were a lot of mirrors, but there had to be more than that. The way the patients spoke of the place with such fear, even Ciel was afraid of it, and there was no way mere mirrors could do what was done to Joker, so what had? It was a morbid curiosity that Sebastian knew he shouldn't have, yet he couldn't help but want to know more.

“If... Finny is just in The Room, then why make everyone forget about him? If he's in there, then that'd mean he might be coming back, right?” So lost in his thoughts, Ciel's sudden mutter startled him.

“... Do you think he's dead?” Sebastian asked, and they both winced a little, neither wanting to hear what they both already thought.

“It's likely, especially if he stumbled across something he wasn't supposed to know. It'd be just like that idiot to accidentally uncover something,” Ciel laughed humourlessly, clutching the note in his hand a little bit tighter.

They fell into a heavy silence, each imagining just what Finny could have done, could have discovered, until Sebastian spoke once more.

“What do you want to do, Ciel?”

Ciel sighed, looking more haggard than Sebastian had seen him before, “Well, we're just going to have to rescue him then, aren't we?”

 

 

۞

 

 

“ _Have a look around, see if you can find anything, but be_ subtle. _I'll start thinking of something.”_

That had been Ciel's parting statement the previous day.

Easier said than done. He hadn't become Sherlock Holmes over night. What was he supposed to do, whip out his tweed cap and assess the clues? There were no clues. That was the problem.

After a restless night, the only concrete decision Sebastian had made was that it would be beneficial to get Bard and Meirin on their side. After all, they were so minor in the Institution that they could easily go around without being noticed. Surely a useful asset to have.

Jog their memories like with Ciel. Well, it seemed like a simple enough idea, but as always, it wasn't nearly as easy as it sounded. Despite Sebastian's best efforts over several days, no amount of cajoling brought forth any recognition at the name of Finnian. During that time, he'd been trying to find little mementos of Finny's. Anything of his that he could show to Bard and Meirin. There was nothing, nothing but the post-it note that Ciel had yet to let out of sight.

It was a last-ditch effort, but the only option left. Sebastian took the post-it from Ciel's room, pocketing it and taking it down to the kitchen with him when he went for dinner.

“Meirin? Can you read this for me? I just can't make out the handwriting,” Sebastian sighed, shooting her a winning smile that made her weak in the knees and hot in the face.

“Of course! Um... _'oh no, she fuh-ond... found? out that she's not ruh-healli... really Gaby's door...daughter...'”_ Meirin stuttered through the scribbled words, not a clue who Gaby or her apparently fake child was.

Sebastian watched her face intently, for any sign of anything, but she just handed the crumpled note back to him with a smile.

Nothing. Was it because the note hadn't been written for her? Did it work for Ciel because it meant something to him?

He went through the same rigmarole with Bard and achieved the exact same result.

Disheartened, he ate little of his dinner, and left the kitchens in a hurry, barely registering Meirin sweeping the note off the table and into the bin.

Ciel did not take the loss well.

“You _idiot!”_ Sebastian dodged the rubix cube hurtling at his head, “Get it back! It's mine, I want it! Get it _back!”_

Sebastian Michaelis was beginning to question his own sanity. The entire Finny scenario, no, that was perfectly sane. Digging around in the trash for the sake of a fucking _note_ for a temperamental teenager? That was definitely crossing some line he used to have, pre-St. Victoria's. In fact, he rather missed that line, which he was now nicknaming self-respect.

“Ugh...” Grimacing, Sebastian flicked his hand, sending the rotting banana skin as far from him as possible.

He'd been tempted to tell Ciel to go to hell. Sebastian Michaelis did _not_ rummage through rubbish for no man... at least, he never used to. But he hadn't missed for a second just how earnestly Ciel had been holding onto that little yellow note, reading it over and over as if the words had changed in the five seconds since he'd last looked. He was beginning to realise just _why_ the note was so important to him now; the post-it had been the thing to trigger his remembrance. Ciel seemed to think if he let it out of his sight that he'd forget all over again. Although Sebastian didn't think that was going to happen, the sheer panic in the boy's eye was too pathetic to bear.

Besides, although Sebastian hadn't believed Ciel capable of lifting more than his nose, the chair he'd launched at Sebastian's face had begged to differ. He'd take five minutes of digging around in trash over a concussion any day.

“Ah!”

He lunged at the little dot of yellow in the midden, snatching it up, and then he saw it.

Later he scolded himself for not grabbing it too, taking it inside and showing it to Bard and Meirin. It surely would have worked. After all, whenever you saw Finny, you saw that straw hat too. He would have taken it, if not for the splattering of blood, already dried to a crusty brown. Just the sight of that stain, a stain Finny never would have let happen to his precious hat, sickened Sebastian.

 

 

۞

 

 

“There's nothing for it. It goes without saying it's not the best of plans, but The Room is the most likely place he'll be, so it should be the first place you check,” Ciel stated. He didn't look very good. White as a sheet, his paleness only making the angry red cuts down the sides of his face and the dark circles under his eyes all the more pronounced. Clearly Sebastian wasn't the only one suffering sleepless nights.

“...The first place _I_ check?” Sebastian frowned.

Ciel raised a brow.

“Yes. Obviously I won't be going with you. You remember the way, I trust?”

“Why exactly won't you be coming with me?”

Ciel sighed, “ _Because,_ clearly this is the staff's doing. I have no idea just how they're doing it, but they definitely are. The fact that you're the only exception to whatever they've done means that it's likely they're watching you. You can easily explain away wandering around the halls at night, but letting me out of the ward again? Somehow I doubt they'll believe you were just taking me for a pleasant evening stroll. No, it's too risky. Besides, Ash's illnesses have become too few and far between. We can't afford to wait for another one... Finny can't afford to wait.”

What a lovely long way of saying he was terrified of going near The Room.

“Now, listen very carefully. There are three things you need to watch out for; one, while Ash stays on the ward at night, word of mouth says that Angela prowls the halls. Keep an eye out for her, and have an excuse handy in case you're unlucky; two, I've also heard that Undertaker is fond of taking midnight strolls, so keep an eye out for him too, and have a joke or two handy just in case. Out of the two of them, Undertaker's the one you want to avoid. There's just something about him; and three, two floors down from here, there are two sets of staircases. One leads to a dead end, the other carries on to The Room. The right one creaks like a bitch, the wrong one locks automatically. Make sure you're going into the right one before you let the door shut, or you'll be stuck until someone else opens the door, and God knows how you'll explain that away.”

Sebastian nodded as Ciel spoke, committing the warnings to memory. Avoid Angela, avoid Undertaker, choose the creaky door. Simple enough.

“We'll see how this goes. If Finny isn't in The Room... well, we'll figure that out later.”

 

 

۞

 

 

Sebastian had never watched a James Bond movie in his entire life. His mother had been a big fan, but the concept had never particularly appealed to him. Unfortunate, really. His night probably would have gone smoother if he'd ever seen one.

Sebastian left his room with a true silence very few could achieve, armed only with a mirror, a doorstop he'd taken from the leisure room, and a stock of jokes in his mind.

Running over the night Ciel had taken him down to The Room in his head, Sebastian left the dorm building and made his way over to the hospital building. He retraced his steps as best as he could, using the mirror to check around corners for anyone before he rounded them himself.

Sebastian was surprised at just how tense he was. He hadn't been this tense the last time he'd gone to The Room, and he'd known even less about the Institute back then. Was it because Ciel wasn't there this time? Possibly. There was just something about the presence of someone who had a clue what was going on that was comforting, or maybe it was just Ciel's presence in general. God knows having at least one person whose sanity he was positive about around was reassuring.

There was another reason for his tension, however.

A line had been crossed. The distinct line between patient and staff had been dissolved the second Finny had become the victim. The thought that even the staff weren't safe from the madness going on in St. Victoria's hadn't even begun to occur to Sebastian. Maybe the reason he'd been less tense the last time he was breaking Institution rules was less to do with Ciel's presence and more to do with the fact that he held the title of Orderly. Subconsciously he'd viewed that title as a sort of shield, keeping him safe from the things that were being done to the patients.

Not anymore.

If he was caught tonight, what would they do to him? The same thing they'd done to Finny, for whatever slight he'd committed? Would Sebastian Michaelis be erased too?

It didn't take nearly as long as he'd thought it would to reach the two doors. Both were identical, industrial grey and without number or anything else signifying where they led to.

With a growing hesitance, a feeling not unlike fear growing in the pit of his stomach, Sebastian started towards the door on the left to test it for a creak.

Voices, two of them, coming his way.

Sebastian's hand faltered as it reached for the handle. If it creaked, it would be the right one, but the approaching people would definitely hear it. Even if it didn't creak, he couldn't use the doorstop. They'd notice if the door was ajar.

The voices drew nearer, almost clear enough to make out their words.

Mind racing for a decision, Sebastian didn't see the body hurtling towards him until he had already been tackled through the door. The two of them crashed to the ground with a thud, and the door swung silently shut.

There was no light in the corridor, room, wherever they were, and Sebastian couldn't make out the face of the other person. Before they could do anything, say anything, Sebastian drew back his arm and threw his fist into where he supposed their face would be.

The sickening crack that followed made clear that he'd hit his target, the person falling away with a strangled cry of pain.

Loathe to give them a chance to recover, Sebastian grabbed the block of wood from his pocket and brought it down without mercy on the person's head. They sagged to the ground, unconscious, and Sebastian finally relaxed, the adrenalin leaving him as quickly as it had came.

Now the panic was over, Sebastian could finally get a glance of his assailant.

Oh... shit.

Sebastian crouched down at the person's side, squinting to get a better look, and blanched.

Nope, no mistaking it. That was definitely Agni with a broken nose and bleeding head.

If they weren't already fighting before, they sure as hell would have been now.

 

 

۞

 

 

It was Soma who'd brought it to his attention.

“Your ex is acting like a fruitloop lately.”

Even Soma didn't miss that Sebastian was acting oddly. Though Soma missed very little, Agni knew, so of course he noticed.

It was evident in the weariness of the man's smirk, how there was something off in his swagger. Something was wrong with Sebastian, and despite the cold shoulder the two of them were giving and receiving, Agni wanted to know just what it was.

His first guess was that he and Ciel had had a spat of some sort, which Soma had attested to, saying that Ciel was being sulky. However, even after Soma told him they'd patched things up again, Sebastian's odd behaviour didn't cease.

That night, Agni had been on his way back to his bedroom after having a shower – he always preferred them at night, when things were quieter and there was less risk of getting caught in the inevitable fight between Will and the soap-stealing Ronald – when he saw Sebastian striding away from his room purposefully.

Although there were no explicit rules in place that forbade the staff to walk the halls at night, it was just common sense that you were better off staying in your room.

Seeing that Sebastian could only be headed towards the main building, Agni's worry increased tenfold and, despite his still present anger with the man, he found himself shadowing his footsteps. That worry inflated to an impossibly degree when he realised just where Sebastian seemed to be going.

And that had been when he'd heard the voices, unmistakably Angela and Ash's, and he was moving before he realised, pushing Sebastian through the door and out of their potential sight. Of course, then Sebastian had gone bugfuck on him, and everything had gone black.

 

 

۞

 

 

He awoke with a groan and the certainty that half his brain was splattered on the floor. It was hard to tell in the darkness, but Agni was fairly sure the room was spinning.

“Please keep still,” he pleaded with the walls, the words coming out nasally. Ah, yes, he'd almost forgotten about the broken nose. He wished he could forget again, since remembering had been his nose's cue to start burning in pure agony.

“Alive, I trust?” Sebastian enquired casually, as though he hadn't just beaten his friend around the face with a block of wood, crouching by the door. He had the mirror in hand and looked to be trying to reflect some of the light from the crack under the door onto the lock.

“Unfortunately,” Agni grunted, dragging himself and his too-heavy head into an upright position. He cradled his pounding skull, and wished he'd stayed in the shower five minutes longer. Then he'd have completely missed Sebastian and would be tucked up in his bed, peacefully sleeping with all of his blood where it should be, not splattered all over his face.

“Care to tell me what exactly you were doing?” Sebastian asked, the same casual tone as before, but there was something sharp to it.

He had a cheek to be mad. His nose was in one piece.

Annoyed, Agni just said, “You could at least thank me.”

Sebastian looked at him in disbelief – at least, it looked like disbelief. It could have been anything in the darkness – then gave a forced laugh, “Thank you very much, Agni, for locking me in here and ruining everything.”

Agni frowned.

“I thought you were trying to get to room 1800?”

Sebastian had to remind himself that of course it wasn't just called The Room, that it must have an official number.

“That's exactly where I was going until you pushed me through the wrong door.”

“What? No, the other door leads to the basements. I mean, you can get to room 1800 that way, but it would take you all night, and you'd probably get lost down there. No, this leads to the lift,” Agni stated, pushing himself up onto shaky legs.

There was a _lift?_ And they walked all that way last time?

“Why exactly are you going down there, anyway? You can only go down there with express permission from the higher-ups, Sebastian. It'll be trouble if you're caught.” All annoyance was absent from Agni's voice now, just curiosity, overwhelmed by concern.

“...Finny.”

It was a worth a try, but Sebastian wasn't remotely surprised when there was no recognition on Agni's face.

“Well, thank you, then,” Sebastian said, a little reluctantly, still smarting over Agni believing Soma over him. As he turned to leave, he was unsurprised to find Agni following, and couldn't help smirking.

“It'll be trouble if you're caught,” he echoed, feeling his way down the corridor, Agni at his heels.  
“...I don't know why you're so intent on going to room 1800, but if it's important enough for you to go against orders over, then I want to help,” Agni insisted, taking Sebastian's elbow and steering him towards the lift.

Sebastian didn't argue with him, nor did he try to explain his reasons any further. There was no point, short of making Agni think he was completely barmy. The lift continued to descend to the lowest levels of the institution, the flashing numbers growing smaller and smaller until they reached _0._

There were no words shared between them, both apprehensive as they made their way towards the door of room 1800 for different reasons. Sebastian took out his keycard and passed it over the electronic panel, unconsciously holding his breath as the door unlocked and he pushed it open. Agni dogged his steps, the two crossing onto the mirrored floors.

The room was empty.

 

 

۞


	11. Chapter 11

۞

 

**Chapter Eleven**

 

۞

 

 

Whether it was the unfamiliar surroundings or the hostile glare being thrown his way, Agni was far out of his comfort zone. He shifted uneasily in the desk chair, looking everywhere but at the pacing boy. He was like a wild animal, striding back and forth, eye fierce as it watched the seated man constantly. Agni was unsure if it was the situation that had Ciel so on edge, or his mere presence in the boy's room.

He didn't have to wonder for long. As he unconsciously shifted, his back beginning to grow sore pressed against the harsh plastic of the chair, Ciel tensed and skulked closer to the door, ready to make a hasty escape from whatever attack he envisioned Agni launching on him.

So it was him, then.

A part of Agni felt rather guilty that his being there was distressing Ciel so much, that he was invading probably the only private space he had. A larger part was resolute on crushing that guilt down. He couldn't leave, couldn't leave Sebastian alone with the boy who had proved over the time Agni had been there, far longer than Sebastian, capable of manipulation of the highest degree.

Ciel Phantomhive may have been Soma's friend, which earned him a certain amount of fondness in Agni's eyes, but there was no changing the cold, hard facts; the boy was charismatic enough to make you believe anything he wanted you to, intelligent enough to win any game, and with a heart so frozen that he could throw you to the dogs all for the sake of his own personal amusement.

Yes, he was Soma's friend, but Sebastian was Agni's, and not even Soma's trust in the one-eyed boy could dissolve the growing suspicion in his heart.

“Again. Tell me again,” Ciel ordered, his fist tightening around that yellow scrap of paper, finally stopping in his tracks before he burnt a hole into the ground.

Sebastian barely refrained from rolling his eyes. They'd already reiterated the entire story of last nights escapade _three times._

“He wasn't there, Ciel. Didn't look like he had been either. Didn't look like anyone had been since Joker,” Sebastian replied instead, shrugging, beyond exasperated. It wasn't that he wasn't concerned for Finny – he wouldn't have gone on that wild goose chase if he wasn't – but Ciel was running around in circles, and that wasn't helping them move forward in the slightest.

“So there was _nothing?”_

“Absolutely nothing.”

Ciel's grip on the post-it note tightened. Sebastian could see the cogs whirring.

Tension was thick in the air, insufferable in its intensity. All three men in the room were panicking.

Sebastian was beginning to realise just how damn helpless he was in this situation. No longer did the title of staff protect him, no longer did he have that impenetrable shield. The mere fact that he was even _capable_ of feeling helpless was infuriating. He'd never felt like that before, never had things be beyond his control. It was certainly not a feeling he was enjoying. More than that, he was beginning to notice the effect the situation was having on Ciel, and couldn't stop himself from worrying. The kid hadn't let go of that damn note since Sebastian had returned it to him, was clinging to it like a lifeline. He wasn't even sure why it was annoying him so much, but it was. He was _this_ close to tearing the fucking thing away from him.

More than anything, however, was the question constantly clawing to the surface of his mind; now that the distinction between staff and patient had been dissolved, who would be the next victim?

It was with a soul-deep worry that Agni watched Sebastian and Ciel converse, talking about the fate of a man that did not exist. Finnian, the gardener, Ciel's friend, or Ciel's ploy that Sebastian was falling for hook, line and sinker? Agni was a trustful man at heart. He truly was. He wanted to believe in Ciel as much as Soma and Sebastian did. Still, trust couldn't be forced, and he couldn't ignore the niggling thought at the back of his mind that maybe, just maybe, the source of Sebastian's hostility towards Soma was Ciel himself. That sudden insistence that Soma was a threat had to have come from somewhere, and even though he tried to think of another source, Agni couldn't deny that the most likely one was the boy before him. He just couldn't figure out _why_ Ciel would turn Sebastian against Soma.

Nor could he understand why Ciel was creating such an elaborate lie. Reasons aside, Sebastian was in the palm of his hand, and seemed perfectly content to be there. Did he really believe there was someone called Finny? Or was he just playing lapdog to Ciel? It scared Agni, truly scared him to his core, how single-mindedly dedicated Sebastian was proving himself to this boy he'd know for only a few months. He'd never seen Sebastian like that with another person before, and it wasn't healthy. He tried to banish the gut-wrenching guilt, the knowledge that it was all his fault, that anything that happened to Sebastian as a result would be _all his fault._

The danger was immense. Ciel Phantomhive was, when all was said and done, a patient of St. Victoria's Institution, and that title alone spoke volumes.

It was all Ciel could do not to throw up. He was honest-to-God sick to his stomach. With worry or fear, he didn't know, but it was doing nothing for his temperament.

Finny wasn't in The Room... But he'd been _so sure._ If he wasn't there, then where else could he possibly be? Well, the Institute had many floors, and more rooms than he could count, but even so... this wasn't the way it happened! When something was wrong, when someone wasn't where they were supposed to be, they were in The Room! That was what happened, that was how it was, how it had always been for almost six years. Then again, Ciel couldn't remember a member of staff being targeted before, it had always been patients and patients alone.

The thought brought a fresh wave of nausea washing over Ciel. In the space of a week, his memories had come to mean very little. He'd forgotten Finny, hadn't he? If it weren't for Sebastian and the post-it note, he'd have probably never remembered him. So, who was to say this hadn't happened before? What they'd done to them all, erasing Finny from their very minds, for all Ciel knew they did this all the time. It was hardly as though he'd know. Hell, what else had they made him forget? And if they could take memories away, wipe the slate clean in his head, who was to say they couldn't create 'memories' too? How much of the past six years had actually happened, and how much was yet another cruel trick by whoever was doing it? How much of his life was real, how much was a lie created by them?

He clutched the note tighter in his fist and took a calming breath. _No, stop it._ Thinking like that was going to get him nowhere but with his head in the toilet emptying his already empty stomach. He had the note. They couldn't take Finny away from him again, couldn't tamper with his mind, as long as he held on to the note.

There were other matters of concern, and Ciel tried to focus on them, the ones that made him feel less ill. The matter of Sebastian, for one. Why exactly had he been exempt from the memory theft in the first place? What were they planning, and what part did Sebastian play in it all? Nothing happened without a reason at St. Victoria's, after all. It was already odd enough that no consequences had arisen from the now two times Sebastian had gone trekking down to The Room without permission. Now he was the sole exception to such a bizarre occurrence? Why?

So many questions without answers was not something Ciel was terribly fond of.

And then there was Agni, staff member, _in his room._ The uninvited went without saying. Sebastian had insisted that the man wanted to help, but Ciel was not eager to take such a one dimensional offer. Ciel had been watching Agni just as carefully as Agni had been watching him during the time in his room, and he had not missed the lack of anything, be it the slightest recognition to the worry he'd have expected, at the mentions of Finny's name.

Agni did not remember Finny. So why exactly was he offering his help?

“What's the next course of action, then?” Sebastian was the one who eventually broke the heavy silence, glancing back and forth between his on-edge companions, the shadowed looks the two would exchange every now and then not lost on him.

Ciel let out on aggravated groan, whipping his as always messy hair out of his face, “There's little else we can do other than search the Institute from top to bottom.”

Agni blanched.

“That would take forever! That aside, it would be impossible to do without getting caught-”

“We've no choice but to take the risk,” Ciel cut across, shrugging off the impending danger with a careful indifference, but Sebastian didn't miss the trepidation that wormed its way into his voice, “We can't leave Finny in their hands if there's even the slightest chance he may be alive.”

Sebastian and Ciel both ignored the little voice ruling out that chance.

“Alright. We'll get on that,” Sebastian stated, rising off the bed. Agni followed his lead, glad to finally be out of that uncomfortable chair. Before they could reach the door, however, Ciel stopped them with a raised hand.

“Hold on. I... I'll be coming with you,” he stated, and despite the hesitation, there was nothing but certainty in his tone now.

Sebastian couldn't help feeling pleased at the announcement, having became more and more unwilling to leave the boy alone with his thoughts when the conflict in his mind was so clearly plastered across his face. Besides, having a St. Victoria's veteran with them could only be useful.

Agni, on the other hand, could actually feel the moment his stomach tied itself into knots. That had been his chance, his window of opportunity to talk to Sebastian, away from Ciel and his influence, make Sebastian see sense, that there _is no Finny._ He couldn't risk raising the subject with the boy with them. God only knows what the unstable boy might do if he felt threatened. His resolution to keep Sebastian and Ciel apart was already tearing at the seams. Agni was beginning to think that maybe this Finny nonsense was some sort of escape plan. Have Sebastian let him out of the ward under the guise of searching for some friend, more than likely imaginary, giving him every opportunity to escape along the way? Agni was certain; Ciel was using Sebastian to get out of the asylum.

Ciel could feel more than see the spike in mistrust coming from Agni, but brushed it off. After all, the mistrust was equal in him. Agni didn't even remember Finny, so what was he doing sniffing around? Without an answer to that, Ciel couldn't feel comfortable with leaving the man alone with Sebastian. He could claim friendship all he liked, hide behind that word and think it meant safety, but Ciel knew differently. Agni, friend or not, was _staff,_ and that meant he was just as likely to plunge a knife in Sebastian's trusting back as Claude or any of the other scum. Besides, more than not wanting to leave Sebastian alone with Agni, Ciel reluctantly admitted to himself that he didn't want to be apart from the man. He felt a lot more sound of mind when he was around him, and especially since the entire Finny debacle began, it was almost as though Sebastian was the sole person tethering him to his sanity, which was slipping between his fingers like smoke.

A firm rapping on the bedroom door drew the occupants from their thoughts as Dagger popped his head in.

“Angela, incomin',” was all he said before slipping back through the crack. Instantaneously, the three were out the door and in the leisure room, just in time to see the lily-haired woman stride onto the ward. Ciel broke away from the trio, making his way over to a freshly-woken and bedraggled Alois, eliciting a beam from the blond.

Cold lilac eyes scanned the room and Sebastian wasn't even surprised when they came to a halt on him.

“Good morning, Sebastian, Agni,” Angela greeted, perfect plastic smile curling her lips, coming to a stop in front of them.

“Morning, Angela,” they chorused, neither bothering to sound particularly enthused.

Pleasantries over and done with, she got straight down to business.

“Agni, I'd like a word with Sebastian. Would you mind giving us some privacy?”

Choosing to ignore the fact that she was asking for privacy in a crowded room, Agni glanced to Sebastian, who gave him an imperceptible nod.

“Yes, ma'am,” he replied hesitantly, and complied, leaving the two alone.

 

 

۞

 

 

Ciel glanced back up as Angela swept from the room, gesturing Sebastian over to him. Unfortunately, Agni reappeared from wherever he'd gone off to and dogged his steps. They sat down across from him.

“What did she say?” Ciel asked. Sebastian gave a meaningful look to Alois, sprawled across the couch besides Ciel, and Ciel sighed, “It's fine. It's not noon yet. He won't be conscious for a while.”

Sebastian nodded.

“I'm to take the night shift tonight. Ash is sick again.”

It was with dread that they listened to their perfect opportunity.

“No. We're not doing this,” Agni insisted, shaking his head fervently, “Coincidence doesn't even begin to cover it. It's too suspicious, you going on the night shift right when we need you to. We'd be playing right into their hands. I don't know why they'd do this, but-”

Sebastian glanced over to Ciel, who looked thoughtful.

“But it's irrelevant. Gift horse, mouth and all that. The fact of the matter is that we have an opportunity handed to us on a platter. We'd be fools not to take it-”

“We'd be fools _to_ take it! Sebastian, please, don't take the bait,” Agni implored, earnest. Sebastian just shrugged away his plea, though.

“Ciel's right. For all we know, Finny can't afford for us to wait. We're going. Tonight.”

 

 

۞

 

 

Ciel was ready and waiting by the time Sebastian arrived at the ward shortly after eight. Clad in the same fleecy jacket as last time, he didn't look up when Sebastian entered, too busy wrestling with the zip. A pout he didn't even seem to be aware of on his face, he huffed in exasperation and threw himself back into the chair.

“Can't even dress yourself, now?” Sebastian couldn't help teasing, trying to force away the apprehension building in him.

Ciel looked less than amused.

“Shut your mouth and make yourself useful.”

_Please fasten my coat for me, Sebastian. Oh, thank you, Sebastian!_

Manners were probably too much to ask for from the brat.

He knelt in front of the boy and zipped the jacket up with exaggerated ease, earning a half annoyed, half embarrassed look from him.

“...I loosened it for you,” Ciel muttered, folding his arms across his chest.

“Of course you did,” Sebastian simpered, delighting in the sudden flush of the boy's ears. He moved to rise from his position knelt before Ciel, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him, and any shred of embarrassment had left him without a trace.

Ciel's poker-face was in place.

“Must he come?”It was almost a whisper, a furtive glance cast to the entrance of the room.

Sebastian didn't have to ask who was being referred to.

“Agni's meeting us downstairs, and yes, he must. He wants to help, Ciel, and let's be frank; we need all the help we can get. Why are you so against Agni now? You've never seemed to mind him before.”

Ciel scoffed, “Of course I minded him before! Sure, he's far from being the worst in this place, but he's still staff, and staff  _cannot be trust.”_ The hand on his shoulder tightened like a vice, and if Sebastian had been a lesser man, he may have cried out. There was no doubt tomorrow would bring a mark in the shape of a certain cyclops' hand. He was not a lesser man, however, and he didn't even wince at the surprising display of strength. 

Oddly red eyes narrowed.

“I'm staff. Can I not be trusted?”

Ciel didn't answer right away, meeting his intense gaze. A few months ago, Sebastian would have taken that pause as his answer, just assumed that if the boy couldn't answer immediately then it was because the answer was something Sebastian wouldn't want to hear. Now, however, he'd been exposed to Ciel a lot more, and knew much better than to make  _any_ kinds of assumptions about him. Ciel wasn't hesitating because he couldn't answer the questions. He was simply thinking, always thinking, never allowing the chance of accidentally screwing himself over with words spurned on by the heat of the moment. 

After a few moments, eye contact never breaking, there was a slight curl of Ciel's lips.

“You're different.”

He said no more, and Sebastian didn't ask for more.

They strode from the ward. Unlike last time, Sebastian was leading the way, Ciel so close to his heels that he was at risk of tripping. The boy's hands were sunk deep into the pockets of his jacket, a bulge in one where he had his fist wrapped around something, and Sebastian didn't need three guesses to figure out just what.

As before, Sebastian had a mirror in his hand, checking around the corners before they turned them. Luckily, or maybe not, the halls were completely deserted, and they quickened their steps.

Agni was waiting in the gardens for them. He was a complete wreck even at first glance; clothes tossed on in a hurry, his asymmetrical strands of hair not tied back like always, jumping at the slightest hint of a shadow. It was a sorry sight, but a little funny, and Sebastian had to stifle a snicker. Honestly, if Agni was distressed at this stage of the night when they hadn't even began, he'd be having a full-on cardiac later.

“Ready?” Sebastian asked, and Agni turned on him with a panicked scowl.

“Ssh!” he hissed, looking around frantically like the night air itself was going to pull a knife on him.

At his side, Ciel sighed, and gave Sebastian a look that clearly said  _This is your idea of help?_ He almost told him to shut up, before realising he hadn't actually said anything. 

“Come on!” Ciel whispered, tossing Agni a scathing look as he stalked away across the unkempt grass towards the building. Sebastian was quick to follow him, and as Agni realised he was alone, he jogged after them.

The shit hit the fan about five seconds later.

“You're going in front of me,” Ciel ordered, gesturing Agni to move, and the man visibly tensed. Seeing Agni's affronted expression and sensing an impending cat-fight, Sebastian attempted to play mediator, but felt more like nursery teacher.

“Look, I'll go in the middle, alright? Satisfied, children?”

They resumed walking, Agni leading the way, Ciel bringing up the rear, with Sebastian acting as buffer between the two.

Unfortunately, Sebastian was rather preoccupied with making sure they didn't walk straight into the path of an oncoming truck in the form of Angela, manoeuvring the mirror to see as much as possible. He was so busy trying to see that he missed what was going on right in front of him.

Agni couldn't relax. He'd been on edge anyway, given the situation, but now a patient was behind him.  _He was completely exposed to patient D18._ He could so very easily pull a weapon on them, kill them both before they had the chance to scream, just run right back through the doors and escape into the night. He couldn't help himself from turning around, glancing back and making sure Ciel wasn't up to something. 

Which, of course, got Ciel's hackles rising. Distrust in the man increasing tenfold, Ciel edged instinctively closer to Sebastian.

And Agni followed the movement with narrowed eyes. Was Ciel making his move so soon?

Ciel's hand slipped into his pocket.

Sebastian was blissfully oblivious to the growing tension surrounding him, so was completely baffled when Agni shouldered past him, knocking him out of the way, and tackled Ciel to the ground.

Ciel cried out as his back was smashed into the cold stone floor, head swimming as it followed his body's lead with a crash. Hands were all over him, grabbing him and restraining him, and then he was on autopilot. He didn't even register that his hands were around Agni's neck, fingers tightening around his throat until the breaths above him because strangled, less and less frequent.

Sebastian was knocked dizzy for a moment after he collided with the wall, head clearing only to be met with the image of a purpling Agni. Blood was running down his neck where Ciel's fingers clawed in for purchase, the man's scrambling to dislodge the hands cutting off his air completely ineffectual. Agni was no longer trying to pin the boy's hands above his head, wasn't even holding him down to the floor anymore, yet Ciel's hands didn't release him.

The one visible eye was glazed, and somehow Sebastian knew that Ciel was not seeing Agni at all, possibly wasn't even seeing the walls of St. Victoria's.

This time it was Agni that was tackled to the floor, skidding across the floor at the sheer force of Sebastian's kick, and he gulped down oxygen greedily. Choking, spluttering, he crawled over to the wall, hand automatically coming up. Blearily, eyes swimming no matter how many times he blinked to clear his vision, he looked back over to the two.

Sebastian was knelt beside Ciel, and even Agni could tell just how careful he was being not to touch him. A wave of guilt crashed over Agni as he looked to Ciel. The boy's breaths were even more ragged than Agni's, a cold sweat plastering his hair to his face and his shirt to his skin where the zipper on his jacket had bust, and his shoulders shook with fierce trembles. If Agni didn't know Ciel, he'd have thought he was crying. The boy's hands scrambled at his pockets and Agni didn't even have the chance to panic before the desired item came into view; the post-it note.

“What the _hell,_ Agni?!” Sebastian was livid, he didn't have to look at him to know. He could feel the heat of his glare. “You know damn well he can't abide being touched!”

Agni had the good grace to look ashamed.  
“I thought... I thought he had a weapon.”

Sebastian looked incredulous, glancing down at Ciel and rolling his eyes.

“Oh _yes._ I'm sure that papercut he could have given us would have been quite lethal.”

“I didn't know that was all he had! I just saw his hand go to his pocket! Sebastian, you're too biased, can't you see he's got you exactly where he wants you?!” Ciel's presence be damned, Agni couldn't help letting the words flow.

Sebastian's eyes flashed dangerously.

“If I'm anywhere, it's exactly where I want to be. And isn't this all a little familiar. I believe I told you the same thing about Soma, and what was _your_ response?”

Agni frowned.

“This and that are completely different. Soma would never hurt anyone.”

“You provoked Ciel. You touched him.”

“...A-Are you saying I _deserved_ that?” Agni was beyond incredulous, his words a chore to force out and his neck still bleeding from the deep scratches, yet somehow he was completely to blame. Yes, he shouldn't have touched Ciel, he _knew_ that. But he'd panicked! Unlike Sebastian, he was seeing Ciel clearly, completely free from any complications to cloud his judgement. 

Sebastian shrugged.

“If you attack someone, you should be fully prepared to _be_ attacked.”

Ciel's breaths climbed down from frantic to his usual level of panic, and his mind stopped reeling. His hands were slippy with Agni's blood, and he looked at them with disgust, wiping them on his pant legs. He was barely listening to the bickering duo, only registering that their voices were getting too loud. Just as he opened his mouth to tell them to shut theirs, movement caught his eye in Sebastian's fallen mirror.

“Someone's coming.” It was barely a whisper, yet Ciel was heard above their yelling, and the three immediately silenced. A fraction of a second passed before they were on their feet, darting from that hallway.

So caught up in the panic-induced adrenalin, Sebastian didn't notice until too late that his footsteps were the only footsteps he could hear, that somewhere in the past few minutes of sprinting he'd lost both Ciel and Agni. He was just about the turn on his heel, find them before they killed each other, when the sound of calm, walking footfalls reached his ears, and he resumed his escape.

 

 

۞


	12. Chapter 12

۞

 

**Chapter Twelve**

 

۞

 

 

He imagined he looked like a ballerina, the way he was walking. Trying to tip-toe, trying to be soundless, as he skulked down the winding hallways. It wasn't an image he much fancied. Still, looking like a tit was better than being caught, Sebastian supposed.

The footsteps that had prompted his separation from the others had trailed him for far too long, getting uncomfortably close at times, but had finally faded away. He was all eyes and ears, unwilling to allow himself to be caught off guard again. One time was bad enough.

He wished he had his watch. Sure, it wouldn't be much use in the grand scheme of things, but he really wanted to know just how long he had been wandering the halls of the Asylum alone, how long until sunrise, how long Agni and Ciel had had to be ripping each others throats out.

He needed to find them – it felt like hours had passed since he'd wrestled Ciel's hands off Agni's throat – but he couldn't risk backtracking. The chances that he'd come across his earlier pursuer were far too high. Besides, this whole thing was about finding Finny, right? The last thing he needed was to be playing babysitter to the bickering children during probably the only shot he had to search the place.

Keycard warm in his palm from how long he'd been holding it, Sebastian passed it over the pad of yet another electronically locked door. As with the two floors worth of rooms before it, Room 217 was empty.

Completely empty, in fact. No tables, no chairs, no cabinets, _nothing._ Two floors of rooms entirely unused. Wasteful, yes, but also a little eerie. Who'd have thought that rooms full of nothing would send a chill down one's spine? Certainly not Sebastian, yet the more rooms he found that were so neglected the dust on the surfaces was essentially skin, the more unnerved he found himself becoming.

The place felt dead.

Sebastian shook the sombre thought away, locking the room and continuing towards the next one. He was being melodramatic. It was such a large building, of course there were going to be empty rooms. It was just getting to him, the situation, the place, the people. If the Sebastian from before St. Victoria's could see him now, getting the creeps from a bare room, he would have laughed.

Still, with every empty room he found, that was one more failure. That little voice in the back of his head was gaining volume as his hope diminished – _he's not even in the Institute, he's dead –_ and shut up became a mantra – _he's not even real, you're losing it, Sebby_ – it was just the place getting to him, that was all.

Gritting his teeth, Sebastian carried on along the hallway. He'd continue looking for Finny for one more floor, but if nothing showed itself, he'd go back and find the others. There was nothing good that could come from the two being alone together, so mistrustful and so on edge. He couldn't shake the image of Ciel's hands around his best friend's neck, the glassy look in his eye and how he didn't even seem to hear Sebastian's attempts to calm him.

Agni had worked at the Institute longer than Sebastian, sure, but that didn't mean he knew Ciel better. Sebastian knew the boy's ticks, at least he liked to think he did, knew when his mood was about to take a turn, and it was that knowledge that Agni sorely needed right then. Agni wouldn't hurt him, not a child, but he'd restrain Ciel if he thought he had to.

And Ciel did not respond well to being restrained.

 

 

۞

 

 

Agni struggled to close the heavy door as quietly as possible, spinning around as soon as he heard the lock click into place. Even heavier than the door was the glare he was being dealt, surprisingly effective despite technically being only half a glare.

Even from across the room, Agni could see how tense Ciel was, ready to spring into action again. The scratches on his neck stung, just another reminder of how vicious this patient was, and how alone he was with him.

The boy's breaths were coming in wheezes. He wasn't used to running. The last thing they needed was for him to start having an asthma attack then and there.

Agni stepped away from the door, conscious of his silhouette in the glass-panel window, and Ciel darted back further. It was like they were animals circling each other, fangs bared and hackles raised, waiting for the other to make the first move.

That continued for as long as it took Agni to realise he was supposed to be the adult here.

“Look, we're stuck for now, so can we at least be civil with one another?” Forever the pacifist, Agni waved his white flag first.

“ _Civil?_ You're the one who attacked me!”

Only for Ciel to snap it in two and throw the pieces back in his face.

Agni flinched, more from the volume of Ciel's voice than the accusation.

“Ssh! Do you want to get caught?” he whispered, “Look, I'm sorry if I hurt you before, but I will not risk you hurting me or Sebastian.”

If it was even possible, Ciel's scowl darkened.

“I have no intentions of hurting Sebastian,” Agni didn't miss the lack of his name there, “Why are you even here, anyway? You don't want to help Finny-”

Agni liked to think he was a calm, rational man. He'd been told, not always in a complimentary way, that he had the patience of a saint. It was something he liked about himself. However, at the mention of _Finny,_ that well-developed patience may well have never existed.

“You can drop the act now! Sebastian isn't here!” he hissed, and god, he hated how he sounded when he lost his temper. This wasn't him. He didn't shout at children, especially ill children.

Ciel's face slackened, the glare losing its bluster, and he actually looked confused for once. Well, at least for the fraction of a second it took before he realised what Agni was implying. Then he was laughing.

Sincere laughter, from the boy of stone.

Not _quiet_ laughter.

Agni darted forward, his body moving before his brain could register it, with the sole intention of making Ciel quiet. Even he admitted that, given the situation, it wasn't too far a stretch of the imagination to consider his approach an act of aggression.

Not nearly as aggressive as Ciel's reaction, though.

The second Agni had moved, Ciel's laughter had cut off abruptly, like someone had hit the mute button. Faster than Agni had thought he could move, Ciel had launched himself backwards towards the wall. He raised the hand holding the mirror above his head then brought it crashing against the wall. The mirror splintered then smashed, shards of glass falling to the ground. Agni pulled himself to a stop just in time for Ciel to select the largest chunk of glass and brandish it at his stationary chest.

“You _dare_ touch me again and I'll _show_ you why I'm a patient here.” They were hardly even words, even growl didn't quite cover the sound coming from the smaller boy's mouth, his lips curled back in a feral snarl. And damn it all, _Agni was scared._ Actually afraid of this boy so small he could lift him with one hand, so childish he sulked for hours if he didn't get his way, who would happily eat chocolate for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

This child who was holding a makeshift knife to his chest and pushing enough that it hurt, a clear enough warning that Agni heeded, stepping back until there was a comfortable distance between them.

Even then, Ciel did not waver, keeping his weapon held high. There was an undeniable smugness in him now, complete certainty that he was in control, just how he liked it.

“So, you think this is all some ploy,” his lips curled into a mocking smirk, “Soma really knows how to choose them.”

Agni's fear receded in the face of anger.

“Don't you even talk about him, not after the poison you've spread.” And again, that horrible voice that he didn't like to recognise as his own.

Agni could see confusion flicker over the boy's face, though he did well to mask it, to keep that control he'd finally attained. Or maybe that little slip was exactly what the boy planned, a subtle way of playing innocent. No, he would not be pulled in, not like Sebastian, by Ciel's carefully crafted lies.

“Poison? What nonsense are you spouting now, you dunce?” Ciel sounded more impatient than anything else.

Agni stopped himself. No, he would not be pulled in like this. He would not play Ciel's little games, losing his already tremulous temper and throwing accusations at the boy, not when they were supposed to be working together. They needed to find Sebastian and the longer they fought between themselves, the further into the building he was going alone.

Time to draw on that infamous saintly patience of his.

“Listen, Ciel... I understand how terrible this place is, I really do, but whatever little escape plan you've conjured up isn't the right way to go about this. Right now, you're sick. Out there, in the real world, you won't last a day. You're here to learn to cope, to learn how best to handle yourself. You'll get out of here when you're better.”

As he spoke, Agni watched Ciel's face carefully, could see that the boy was struggling to keep calm and collected, to keep his control. It was that last sentence that snapped him, his face contorting into raw rage, almost sounding on the verge of tears as he cried, “ _He won't let me get better!”_

And Agni wasn't scared of him anymore, feeling nothing but pity for this terrified child in front of him. For all his airs and forced-maturity, that was all Ciel Phantomhive was, all any of the patients at St. Victoria's were; frightened, alone and suffering children.

Composure was nowhere to be found as Ciel struggled to rein himself in, huddling over as though trying to defend against attack, forcing away the treacherous burning behind his eye and the tightness in his throat. His hands pulled to his chest and he didn't even notice that the glass was cutting into his clenched fist, blood streaming down his hands. _He needed to get out, there was no air in this room, in this building, and he'd never get out, that man wouldn't let him, he'd be mad forever-_

Warm hands covered his own and it was like having cold water thrown over him. Ciel stumbled back, away from the touch and away from the hands, and Agni let him do so. The bloodied glass was no longer in his hold. It was only once Agni had taken it from him that he felt the sting of the gash on his palm, but that burning pain was better than thinking so he focused on it, turned away from Agni's eyes and willed himself to _stop it, stop acting like a helpless child, there's work to be done._

What was it Freckles always said when he was getting too worked up? Count back from ten. Ciel never held much stock in such things but he gave it a go, saying the numbers in his mind and climbing down. By the time he reached six, his breathing was getting back to normal, and by four his mind had stopped racing, then he reached zero, and he turned back to face Agni, his poker-faced self.

Agni waited, giving Ciel the control he clearly needed, at least for now.

“I'm not going to hurt Sebastian.”

Agni didn't reply, partly because he knew the boy had more to say, mostly because he couldn't reply in a way that wouldn't start another argument.

“If I'm being honest then... yes. I had entertained the idea of using Sebastian as a ticket out of this place. He was new, clearly out of his depth and, as such, painfully easy to manipulate, but... but I know it wouldn't work. Sure, I could get out of here using him, but they'd only hunt me down and bring me back, no doubt punishing me for the trouble to boot. I... I can't imagine anything worse than actually getting _out,_ only to be brought back. “

Ciel fell silent for a while, clearly picturing the abhorrent scenario, the quiet moments drawing on so long that Agni started to wonder whether the conversation was over. Then Ciel shook himself out of the reverie.

“Anyway, it's not me you have to worry about screwing you over. It's the Institute. You don't have to trust me, Agni. I sure as hell don't trust you. Just play along for now. If you do, we may survive the night yet.”

He could not and would not trust Ciel. There was just too much against him. If it wasn't Ciel that turned Sebastian against Soma, then who? If it weren't Ciel, then Agni couldn't think of who else Sebastian would so steadfastly believe. Besides, Ciel had hardly built himself up a reputation of being trust worthy over the years. More than any of that, he was _patient D18_.

There was at least a little truth to the boy's words however. If they didn't start working together, lasting the night uncaught was simply impossible.

“Fine. Truce,” Agni reluctantly agreed, to Ciel's relief.

“Good. I know you don't believe me, but there really is a Finny, and he's in trouble. So enough chatter. Let's get moving.”

Once Agni had made sure it was safe, the two skulked from the room, both intent on finding their friends.

 

 

۞

 

 

Finny wasn't here.

As much as Sebastian tried to shake off the unwelcome thought, it kept crawling back, a continuous little whisper at the back of his mind. Unbidden images of mirrored walls and bloodstained blonds accompanied it, and he kept having to remind himself that he'd already checked The Room, that it was just as empty as every other room he'd checked.

The number of rooms he'd seen grew and with it so did the volume of that malicious voice.

He was on the fourth floor now. Even though he'd resolved to go and find the others after the second floor, his feet just kept carrying him onwards, his mind compelling him, _just one more room._ But one room became two, then four, then an entire floor. Before he knew it, he'd climbed two more staircases and was further away from his companions than ever.

Right. He was going to finish this floor then turn around and go back. That was that.

But what if Finny was in the next room? What if he was feet away and he just turned his back and left, left the helpless boy to die, let them win?

That kind of thinking really wasn't helping the whole common sense thing.

A startlingly loud, high-pitched beep rang out in the hall, and Sebastian froze. Behind him, he heard the _fwoosh_ of a door swinging open.

He was like a deer caught in headlights, waiting to hear those ominous footsteps that would prelude his capture, his failure, his defeat. He waited so long that the burst of adrenalin came and went without use, and he was left shaky. When still nothing happened, Sebastian slowly turned to look behind him.

The door to Room 408 was open wide, the room looking just as empty as it did minutes ago when Sebastian had checked it. His keycard was still clasped in his fist, nowhere near the keypad, ruling out any chances that Sebastian had inadvertently unlocked the door himself.

But the doors could only be opened by the keypad, which was outside the door. The hallway was completely empty, bar Sebastian himself.

Eyes narrowing, Sebastian jolted away from the open door, putting as much space between himself and Room 408 as possible. Still nothing came from the room, no person, no sound, but he wasn't going to just stand there and wait for something to happen.

Sebastian swiped his card against the keypad of a door at the far end of the corridor, still watching Room 408 with apprehension. Eyes never straying from that open doorway, he reached behind him and jiggled the handle.

It wouldn't budge.

More carefully this time, Sebastian passed his keycard over the electronic panel slowly, and jerked the handle roughly down.

Once again, it didn't move an inch.

Unconsciously, he moved like a man walking across a mine field, abandoning that door and trying the one opposite. He wasn't surprised when he yielded the same results; it would not open.

Nor would any of the others he tried.

A light chuckle reached Sebastian's ears and it took a moment before he realised it was his own. This whole thing was so infuriating yet completely hysterical, both at the same time. He was supposed to go through the door to Room 408, wasn't he? That was what he was being told, by whoever was doing this. They were trying to move him like a pawn, this person. No doubt the same person who got him put on the Night Shift right when he needed it.

He couldn't seem to stop the little chuckle, despite trying. Maybe he was hysterical himself. And right when there was no-one around to slap him. Shame, Ciel probably would have enjoyed the job. Hell, even Agni, considering he still bore the bruises from the doorstop.

The thought just made him laugh more. He was actually in a situation where the two people he was depending on the most were two people who would happily slap him silly. And to think, this time last year he was a rising star in the archaeology circles. How things changed.

Shaking his head, Sebastian bit back the laughter that was starting to sound a little manic, even to him. Alright, so someone was playing a game, and clearly he was one of the toys. He couldn't go through any of the doors apart from the door to Room 408. That didn't mean there weren't alternatives.

Turning on his heel, he carried on walking, at what he liked to think was a leisurely pace. He didn't look behind him, even when he heard the sound of a door swinging shut and a lock sliding into place. Finally, he found the staircase, and carried on up to the fifth floor.

 

 

۞

 

 

“...Did you do that?” Ciel muttered, glancing over at Room 217. Dust billowed from the floor as the door swung inside, getting in his face and making him cough.

“...No,” Agni replied sharply, looking at the open doorway like it was Grell in his birthday suit, “My card's in my pocket.”

Eye narrowing, Ciel walked on, gesturing the man to follow. When Agni didn't immediately heed his silent order, the boy gritted his teeth and barked, “Move!”

What was the imbecile doing? A situation like this, you didn't wait around to see just which one of the monsters were going to eat your face, you _got the hell outta there._

“Wait! Just...” Agni still wasn't moving, staring at Room 217 pensively, and Ciel's already sapped patience with the Orderly diminished that little bit more.

Once more, the boy bit out, “Move.”

And once more, Agni didn't listen.

“I think... I think we should go in.”

If Ciel hadn't have been so beyond annoyed at this point, he'd have laughed. And he was supposed to be the crazy one.

“You cannot be that _stupid._ It's clearly a trap!” Ciel snapped, turning his head to see the man's face, to see if he was actually serious. If his expression was anything to go by, he was deathly serious.

“So is this entire situation, Ciel! I mean, come on, what was with Sebastian being put on the Night Shift like this? There's coincidence and then there's that! Look,” he became imploring, “We're getting nowhere wandering around like this. For all we know Sebastian has already been caught... I think we should at least try this. It's no more suspicious than anything else that's already happened.”

There was probably a shred of logic in there somewhere, but Ciel was in no mood to try finding it.

“You go in there, you go in there alone.”

Agni's resolute look faltered.

“...We shouldn't split up.”

“No. We shouldn't.”

Once again, they were in the same position, both against each other and just waiting for the other to back down. So far, Agni had given in, had been the one to relent for the sake of moving things along. This time, though...

There was just something about being ordered around by this child that didn't sit well with Agni. He was the adult here. He was the member of staff. Surely he was supposed to be the one in the position of power. Yet here they were, and he could see in Ciel's face that certainty that Agni was going to buckle once more, just give in and go along with whatever Ciel chose to do.

It was _enough_ already. He was the adult here. He was the member of staff. He was in control.

Ciel could see that he was fighting a losing battle here. Sometimes there was just no getting through to idiots. Splitting up was the worst possible idea – Ciel didn't even have a keycard, for one thing – but he refused to let himself be controlled, like he was some lab rat in a maze.

Without another word to each other, they both turned and went their separate ways, Agni into Room 217 and Ciel onward down the hall. The boy heard the door swing shut and the lock click into place, and it occurred to him that this was possibly the aim all along.

Now the three of them were all alone. Divided, and all the easier to conquer.

 

 

۞


	13. Chapter 13

۞

 

**Chapter Thirteen**

 

۞

 

 

It had been a nice dramatic statement, turning his back on Agni and going his own way. Yes, nice and effective, he'd thought at the time. He'd made his point perfectly clear and left the moron to his own fatal devices.

Shame he'd forgotten the moron had the keycard.

Losing Sebastian had been bad enough, but now he'd gone and ditched his human key as well. Ciel had to grudgingly admit, it wasn't his brightest moment. He lingered on the top of the stairs, waiting despite himself for Agni to come lumbering after him.

The man was a soft touch. Surely he wasn't just going to let Ciel wander around defenseless and _alone?_

As the minutes crawled by in solitary silence, Ciel huffing and foldings his arms across his chest, he was starting to think Agni had actually grown a backbone. Tapping a foot in impatience, he waited a few minutes more. That was all well and good, but did he have to put on his Man Pants right now, when Ciel needed him to follow like an obedient puppy and open the bloody doors?

God _dammit._

With a low growl of frustration, Ciel abandoned his patience and stormed away.

Fine. If the man wanted to walk straight into a trap and leave him all on his own, he could damn well please himself. Nevermind that Ciel had been gracious enough to let the nuisance tag along in the first place, however reluctantly, and had even stopped himself from plunging the glass into his throat for daring to touch him.

Some people were so bloody ungrateful.

There was nothing else for it. Even though Finny was supposed to be first priority, because Agni was being such an _arse,_ Ciel would have to put Finny on the back burner and find Sebastian instead. He should have put a lead on the man. How the idiot had gotten separated so early on in the game, Ciel had no idea.

He could feel his temper flaring dangerously quick, leaving no room to think, so he slowed to a stop, took a deep breath and counted back from ten.

_Nine, eight._ Ciel was currently on the third floor, he and Agni parting ways downstairs. 

_Seven, six._ It had been at least an hour, probably two since they'd lost Sebastian. No doubt Sebastian had dutifully been searching the rooms. If his and Agni's progress was anything to go by, it took about half an hour to get through a whole floor.

_Five, four._ So, by that logic, Sebastian had had the time to do four floors. Ciel concluded he was probably on the fifth floor, if he hadn't by some miracle found Finny, been caught or worse.

_Three, two._ There was still the issue of whoever had been pursuing them earlier. What floor were they on? What was Ciel going to do if he crossed paths with them? It was hardly as though he could hide in one of the rooms. The only option was to run and hope he wouldn't burn his depleted stamina out entirely before he lost them. 

_One, zero._ No lingering, no giving chances to be caught, fifth floor, find Sebastian.

Just having a plan in mind, no matter how flimsy and wrought with holes it was, calmed Ciel's thundering mind. Slowly, he continued walking, not pausing at any of the doors he passed. One flight of stairs, then another, and if anyone was watching him, they would have thought he hadn't a care in the world, seemingly at ease. 

Good. That was exactly how he needed to be. Too often for his liking he'd been losing his composure, lately. Albeit, things were getting marginally more bizarre, and he wasn't completely irrational to be getting so freaked out. However, it simply wouldn't do. He had to collar his nerve and not let it escape him again. Once you let your emotions get the better of you, you were vulnerable, and Ciel could not afford to be vulnerable.

The fifth floor was visually no different than any of the others floors. Doors, walls and ceiling. No Sebastian in sight either.

Well. Fuck.

Ciel jumped out of his skin when a beep cut through the silence of the hallway, and footsteps reached his ears. A door behind him swung open and somehow he just knew that wasn't Sebastian. He wasn't even sure why. It could very well have been. But then the hairs on the back of his neck jumped to attention, his mouth was suddenly dry, and Ciel had long ago learnt that his instincts knew best. So he listened to them and ran.

He only got down half the corridor before an arm wrapped tightly around his middle, stopping his forward momentum painfully quickly, a clammy hand clamping down over his mouth before the thought to yell even registered, and this was all too familiar. The open door down the corridor was still open, and over the snorted breaths from his nose he could still hear those leisurely footsteps leaving the room. Then he was pulled into the darkness of Room 514.

 

 

۞

 

 

“Oi, it's – don't kick – keep still!” As soon as the door was shut, Ciel was released, though that may have had more to do with his attacking limbs. He hadn't expected to be released so quickly, so stumbled into the wall. Even though he had been released, he could still feel the warmth of his assailant at his back, and pressed himself as far into the wall as he could go. That person was too close, Ciel's skin still crawling where he'd touched, and it was all Ciel could do to not scratch and claw that disgusting itch away.

“It's _me,”_ the person insisted from behind him and now that he was free of their grasp he started to recognise the voice. Squinting through the darkness of the oddly small room – what was this, a cupboard? – he tried to make out the person's features, and finally saw those eyes.

“Sebastian?”

The only response he got was an insistent “Ssh!”

Ciel shushed.

“It's Ash,” Sebastian murmured, inclining his head towards the door. Ciel's eye was adjusting to the dark now, and he could see that they actually _were_ in a cupboard, or at least a small store room. It was less than a quarter of the size of a normal room, but unlike those, it wasn't empty. Mops, brushes, buckets and shelves of cleaning supplies filled the compact space. Now that he looked, Ciel could see that Sebastian was pressing himself as far into the shelves as possible, trying to give Ciel as much space as he could. 

Outside the door, the footsteps came and went, and the moment of dread didn't occur, the person not so much as pausing outside their hiding place. As the footsteps disappeared into the distance, Sebastian visibly relaxed.

“I've been in here for forty minutes,” he sighed exasperatedly, running a hand through his hair. Of course it fell right back into place. Even in life and death situations, his hair gel prevailed. “He knew I was here. He must have. He just kept lurking around.”

“Did he see me?” Ciel asked, frowning deeply.

Sebastian looked thoughtful.

“Hm. He was going in and out the rooms for a while. Luckily, he was already in one when you came up the stairs. Still, _I_ heard you running from down here. You know you breathe really loudly? Seriously, how out of shape are you-”

“Could you please focus for five seconds?” Ciel snapped, rolling his eye. Honestly. If it wasn't his grooming, or lack thereof, then it was his fitness. The man was worse than his Mother.

“Anyway, I don't think he saw you. He was taking his sweet time leaving the room, that's for sure... Hey, where's Agni?” Sebastian suddenly switched subjects, squinting through the clouded glass of the door, as though expecting to see his friend wandering along.

Ciel avoided his gaze. Well, this was awkward.

Sebastian's brow furrowed.

“ _Ciel?”_

“We... had a difference of opinion.”

“...What the hell does that mean?” Sebastian demanded, and then saw red staining Ciel's sleeve. Christ, Ciel had gone and killed Agni, hadn't he? _Fan_ tastic. As if things weren't complicated enough, Ciel had killed his best friend. Because that wouldn't be hard to explain or anything.

Ciel scowled, “It means that your friend is a complete moron who decided to walk right into someone's trap, and expected me to go with him. Anyway, he doesn't matter. What does matter is why Ash, who is supposed to be sick, is wandering around the Institute-”

“No, let's go back to Agni. Let me get this straight; you acknowledged that there was a trap, so ditched Agni and left him to wander into it alone?”

Ciel sighed.

“Yes. That's exactly what happened. Now we've got that clear, back to Ash-”

“For God's sake, Ciel!” Sebastian snapped, resisting the urge to shake the boy, who either didn't see how serious this was or, more likely, didn't give a damn. “Great. So now we've got to go back and find him, yet again wasting more time we could be using to find Finny.”

Sebastian checked that the coast was clear and threw the cupboard door open, stalking out. Ciel followed closely at his heels. With stealth a street urchin would have envied, Ciel snatched Sebastian's keycard from his pocket and began over to the stairs.

“You can do whatever you want. I, on the other hand, am going to do exactly what we came here to do-”

“That's your blood.”

Ciel paused, glancing back over his shoulder at Sebastian, who was frowning down at his hand. Ciel followed his gaze and nodded. He'd forgotten about the cut, and as was usually the case, remembering the injury made him aware of the dull throbbing in his palm.

“It's fine,” Ciel stated, shrugging and continuing on his way. Only to have his hand caught by Sebastian. Before he could lash out, Sebastian had snaked the pass out of his uninjured hand, pocketing it.

“Look, the next floor is the last floor. We both saw Ash go up there, Ciel. We _can't_ go up there,” as Sebastian spoke, he pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and wound it around Ciel's bloodied hand, “We've already wasted too much time. The last thing we need is to lose someone else. Finding Finny was a long shot anyway. We can still find Agni if we go looking now.”

“I'm not arguing with the logic, Sebastian. Fact is, I have no interest in finding Agni. He _chose_ to go wandering off. He never believed in Finny anyway-”

“Agni's my friend, Ciel. I've thrown myself to the dogs to help you find your friend. You won't do the same for me now?” Sebastian met Ciel's eye, and Ciel was startled by the intensity he found there, the already unusual red adopting an ethereal gleam. He found it hard to look away.

“You're clearly a better person than I am, Sebastian.” With that, Ciel turned on his heel and walked away, knowing that Sebastian would follow him. Because Sebastian had come too far now, invested too much in him, to just leave Ciel alone in a situation like this.

And, predictably, Sebastian shadowed him all the way up the stairs.

 

 

۞

 

 

Voices.

He curled as far as he could go, wishing that his knees could somehow pass through his chest and he could curl up into a ball so small he'd simply disappear. Disappear, and escape this. This black, this box, this empty emptiness.

Voices, more than one now, and he couldn't even cry any more. Foolishly, he'd used up all his tears all too quickly, and now the only thing he could do was wait. Wait for them to come for him and to do what they did best then leave, leave him in this black, in this box, with nothing but the empty emptiness.

Voices, getting louder, and he couldn't even be afraid any more. He'd used up all the fear, and all he had left was the dread, an empty echo of the bone-shaking terror he used to have.

Voices, and he was delusional now. The black held monsters, monsters that pulled the walls of the box tighter and tighter around him, threatening to crush no matter how small he tried to be. And the smaller the walls became, the less air there was, and that must be it. He couldn't breathe, and when you couldn't breathe, you hallucinated. And he was hallucinating now, because the voices sounded familiar. Not scary familiar, but warm familiar.

And then the emptiness wasn't quite as empty any more, and the black became a little lighter, and the walls retreated. His legs wouldn't work, but his arms would, and he dragged himself closer to the warm voice. Even though his arms hurt and his body didn't want to move, even though he didn't have nails to dig into the floor any more, he pulled himself towards the voice.

His own voice had been screamed away, but he tried, wetting his dry and cracked lips and shouting the name of the one who owned the warm voice. Not even a croak escaped him, but his scrabbling hands knocked into something solid and sent it clattering to the floor-

 

 

۞

 

 

Sebastian's head snapped around so quickly his neck cracked and he knew he'd be feeling that in the morning, if it ever came. Ciel froze in front of him, eye darting around for the source. They both shared the same immediate thought;  _Ash._ But he was no-where to be seen, had disappeared into a room somewhere on the sixth and final floor, the floor Ciel had insisted on going up to.

That noise hadn't been the electronic beep they'd come to dread, the sign that a door somewhere was opening, more often than not by itself now. It had been a crash, something hard dropping to the floor, and it had been near.

Ciel saw it first.

His single cerulean eye widened and he clicked the fingers of his uninjured hand. The sharp noise drew Sebastian's attention back to the boy, who pointed his chin down the hall.

Sitting innocuously between two of the standard electronic doors was one that stood out. Unlike every other door on that floor and all the ones beneath it, it had no clouded glass window, no number on its surface. It was wooden, not whatever industrial metal all the others doors were made of. Those things, although odd, were not what caught Ciel's attention.

The door had no handle. Moreover, it had no electronic panel for a keycard to pass over.

“This is it, Sebastian,” Ciel darted towards the door, caution forgotten as victory was in sight, “Kick it in. Finny, if you can hear me, get away from the door.”

Sebastian blinked, shook his head, “Wait. Slow down. Why are you so  _certain_ this is it?”

Ciel looked at him like he had asked why birds fly.

“Because Finny's claustrophobic, of course. If they were going to try and mess with his head, _this_ is the way to do it. Hurry up and kick it in, Sebastian!”

Ciel was the expert in these things, and the sooner they either found Finny or admitted defeat, the sooner they could go and find Agni. So Sebastian readied himself, waited for Ciel to nod and give him the okay, then drove his foot into the unhinged side of the door. He'd taken kick-boxing back in the day, so of course the door splintered beneath the force of his kick immediately. It took another two for the wood blocking their way to be completely defeated.

Before he'd even had the chance to lower his leg, Ciel hopped over the debris and disappeared into the black of the room. Sebastian vaulted after him.

The sight that met them was not a pretty one.

Finny scarcely looked like Finny. His once-full head of blond hair was completely shaven, a train track of stitches trailing around the back of his bald scalp. His eyes, once a vibrant blue, were dulled and even the bright blue seemed to have faded. He usually wore shorts and T-shirts, light clothes for working in the gardens all day, but they had been traded in for the white sweat shirt and pants of the patients. The clothes hung from him and, even though he hadn't been gone that long, he had the haggard look of someone who had lost a lot of weight in a very short time. He was curled in on himself impossibly tight, his hands clutched over his head. His fingertips were encrusted with dry blood, his fingernails completely gone. Suddenly, Sebastian was back in The Room, standing before a broken and bloodied Joker, sobbing heartbreakingly. Finny did not sob, but he let out a soft mewling sound, like a baby would do before the big tantrum.

Ciel held up a hand to Sebastian, a silent order to stay where he was, then gingerly approached the crumpled figure on the floor. And it was like with Joker all over again, this gentleness that seemed so utterly foreign to the boy Sebastian knew, the boy who had left Agni to be captured and hurt, the boy who was now whispering soft and comforting words while laying his hand feather-light on Finny's shuddering shoulder.

However, unlike Joker who launched himself into Ciel's arm, Finny was unresponsive. It was as though he didn't even notice Ciel's present, just stared sightlessly ahead, pitiful whimpers breaking past his split lips.

When Finny continued to be oblivious to Ciel's coaxing, Ciel tossed Sebastian a desperate look, as though Sebastian could fix whatever had been done to his friend. Sebastian stepped forward and knelt at Ciel's side. Unlike Ciel, who had been impossibly gentle with his touch, Sebastian roughly grasped Finny's shoulder and gave a good hard shake. Ciel lashed him with an icy glare, but then Finny's whining abruptly stopped, and Sebastian felt him stiffen beneath his hand.

A response, however, minimal.

Although still empty, Finny's blue eyes dragged away from the wall he'd been locked in a staring match with and met Ciel's. Ciel didn't even try to hide his relief.

“We're getting you out of here, Finny,” he announced, and his voice shook with barely suppressed emotions; mostly anger, but mixed with that was a deep worry and even pity. He then turned his attention back to Sebastian. Sebastian didn't even have to ask to understand what the boy wanted.

Carefully, in case there were injuries they hadn't yet seen, Sebastian gathered the unresponsive Finny in his arms. Ciel rose from the floor and made his way towards the door, stepping carefully over the chunks of woods, gesturing for Sebastian to follow him.

It happened so quickly, Sebastian didn't have the chance to call out to him. One second, a shadow moved into his sight, then Ciel was struck across the head and crumpled to the floor in a boneless heap.

Finny dropped from his arms, and if he'd have been entirely conscious the gardener probably would have cried out in pain. Sebastian paid him no heed, however, wasting no time in tackling Ciel's assailant to the ground.

A high-pitched scream pierced the air.

Sebastian and the attacker wrestled for control, the other person surprisingly strong, and a dirty fighter to boot. Yanking fistfuls of Sebastian's hair, elbows to the face, digs to the gut, even a kick aimed to the crotch, this person was taking no chances.

Unfortunately for them, Sebastian gave as good as he got, and for every hair-yank and misplaced elbow, he returned it tenfold.

“Stop!” the owner of the scream screeched and was instantly obeyed. Sebastian wasted no time in twisting the person's arm behind their back and forcing their face into the ground. Their weapon clattered to the floor.

A rolling pin?

Then he saw just who his opponent was.

“Bard?!” Sebastian couldn't help exclaiming incredulously, almost releasing the blond's twisted arm from shock alone. A distant part of his mind noted that he was making a nasty habit of assaulting his friends.

And wherever Bard did go...

Meirin was knelt beside Ciel, inspecting the bleeding wound on the back of his head and nibbling her lip worriedly. She breathed a sigh of relief when a pained groan escaped the floored boy as he came around. She met Sebastian's eyes, for once not degraded into blushing and nervous chattering, and silently they met an agreement. Simultaneously, they abandoned their positions and swapped, Meirin rushing to Bard and rubbing his no doubt bruised arm, Sebastian darting to Ciel's side and helping him into a sitting position.

“A fucking rolling pin? Oh god, this whole thing has dissolved into a goddamn cartoon...” Ciel muttered groggily beneath his breath, leaning heavily against Sebastian's chest and prodding tentatively at the congealing blood on the back of his head. Ascertaining that Ciel was in no immediate danger, though he'd no doubt be suffering a concussion, Sebastian looked back to Bard and Meirin.

Only they weren't where they had been.

“Oh god...”

They were knelt in the doorway. Meirin had Finny gathered in her arms so tightly it had to hurt, but unlike before, Finny was responding, clutching her back just as tight. Bard stood over them like a sentinel, casting a suspicious eye towards Sebastian.

“What the hell is going on?” he demanded, his hands twitching, no doubt itching for a cigarette.

Sebastian didn't answering, instead making a demand of his own, “How did you remember? Everything I tried didn't work.”

Bard motioned to Meirin and she untangled herself from Finny long enough to show them the blood-encrusted hat clasped in one of her hands. She looked on the verge of tears, fingers hovering over the stitches on Finny's scalp, and she carefully placed the hat on his head. Finny's nailless hands came up to clutch the sides of it before he dove back into Meirin's arms.

“She found it lying by the bins... came running to me all in a state, showed me it... Sebastian, who did this? And... And why would someone do this to Finny-”

“ _Leave.”_

Bard stopped abruptly, looking down from Sebastian to the boy leaning against him. It was more the tone of the word than the word itself that silenced him. It wasn't a statement, wasn't a request. This patient was giving Bard an outright order.

“I don't just mean Finny. All three of you, leave. If Finny was targeted, you two aren't safe either. Take Finny and go. It doesn't matter where as long as it's not here.”

Sebastian looks down at him, surprised at the conviction in his voice, and even though he can't see the look on his face he can picture it. That firm set of the mouth, furrowed brows, the resolved look in his eye that didn't belong on someone his age.

Bard scoffed.

“We weren't planning on staying, kid.”

With that said, Bard tapped Meirin on the shoulder and she pulled away from Finny, who still clung to her like a lifeline. Bard gently untangled his hands from the woman's dress then pulled him up into his arms, cradling him against his chest. Meirin fussed over Finny's hands, trying to position them against his chest in a way that would avoid knocking the raw and painful fingertips.

Sebastian and Ciel both had to look away from the trio, both feeling like they were intruding upon something intimate, seeing something they had no right seeing.

And then the moment was broke when Bard turned to Sebastian, shamefaced, and said, “Heh... er, by the way, we kind of ran into your friend along the way. Agni? And, uh... well, we left him in a cupboard on the second floor.”

Apparently Sebastian wasn't the only one beating up his friends. Now they were beating each other.

The five quickly made their way back down the building, eyes and ears peeled for any unwelcome wanderers, picking a frustrated and mildly concussed Agni up along the way. Both his companions sporting head injuries courtesy of Bard's trusty rolling pin, Sebastian supported them down the steps until the six were outside the building.

The night air was a welcome change. The sky was lightening, dawn creeping in, and it was so very welcome. Bard, Meirin and Finny stood opposite Sebastian, Ciel and Agni, the group converging on part of the lawn in the gardens, unkempt in Finny's absence.

Agni broke the silence, still looking in wonderment at the slumped figure in Bard's arm. Sebastian couldn't really tell what Agni was thinking as he looked at the person he'd thought fictional, but he could see in the way that Agni's eyes were drawn to his bloodied hands that there was pity and more than a little fear racing through his friend.

“Where are you going to go?”

Bard shrugged, sharing a bemused look with Meirin, “Dunno. Probably crash at my cousin Aberline's for a while. Guy's got these great gardens, y'know.”

There was little else more to say, words not really enough to encompass what truly needed to be said about the night's events, so exchanging goodbyes, Bard and Meirin turned to leave.

Only to pause when Finny began to struggle violently, suddenly more awake than he had been at any point since they'd found him. Croaks escaped him as he tried to speak, sounding so raw that it physically hurt to hear him trying. His head snapped up, hat falling back to reveal his searching eyes, which landed on Ciel. He threw out an arm, stretching towards the boy at Sebastian's side.

Ciel strode forward into Finny's reach and was pulled into a half-hug, Finny hanging out of Bard's arms to reach Ciel. Ciel tensed, looking plainly uncomfortable in his friend's grasp, but did not push him away.

Finny's lips found Ciel's ear, and he rasped, “I-I didn't mean to see anything... but I'm glad I did, even if they took outside away – you're in trouble, everyone is, but you... the Third Chairman...” and then Finny broke off, his face contorting into pure agony. Little sounds escaped his lips, half-words and broken syllables, but they couldn't be pieced together to form anything coherent. And then he broke off into sobs, “I can't say it, Ciel! They won't let me say it!”

Ciel shushed him, that gentleness seeping back into him, and he didn't even shy away from Finny's touch.

“You don't have to say any more then. I'll be careful, then when I get out, I'll come and see you, alright?”

The words apparently weren't enough.

“P-Pinky-swear?”

Ciel flushed, flicking an embarrassed glance behind him and looked ready to refuse, but then tears started swimming in Finny's eye.

“Fine! I _swear,”_ Ciel groaned, ears turning a dark red as he locked his little finger with Finny's and shook their entwined hands. Appeased, Finny gave a shaky smile and pulled Ciel closer to him. It was the first time Sebastian had seen Ciel in a real hug, and he could see just how much Ciel wanted to squirm away, the sheer effort not to evident on his face.

And then the hug was over, and the trio were gone, disappearing through the gardens towards the walls of the St. Victoria's Institute.

Sebastian, Ciel and Agni watched their retreating backs as they clambered over the wall and vanished from view for good. Sebastian noted the lack of security, no barbed wire atop the walls, no security cameras, not even a patrolling guard. Before, he'd have questioned it, but now he knew better, understood that there was no need for security to keep people inside St. Victoria's.

Everyone who was to be prisoner there would not try to run away.

Unconsciously, his gaze was drawn to Ciel while he thought this, taking in the overwhelming longing on the boy's face as he watched the three escape, that palpable desire to be going with them. He found himself saying, “I wouldn't stop you, you know, if you tried to run. It's not too late to catch up with them, to go with Finny to Bard's uncles, to freedom... I'd even help you jump the wall.”

Agni began to splutter, to scold Sebastian, but Ciel cut him off. His gaze met Agni's briefly before turning to Sebastian.

“I know,” he smirked, “don't think for one second that I wouldn't use you as a ladder to get over that wall if it was what I really wanted.” The boy turned around to fully face Sebastian, sobering instantly, all trace of humour leaving him. “I won't run away, Sebastian, and I won't use you as a means to an end. I _will_ get out of here. And on that day, it will be on my own terms, by my own strength, and most certainly not with my tail between my legs.”

 

 

۞


	14. Chapter 14

۞

 

**Chapter Fourteen**

 

۞

 

 

St. Victoria's Institute for the Criminally Ill was a bizarre place. Certainly, this is a foregone conclusion, given the very nature of the establishment. An asylum that wasn't odd was simply not an asylum, after all. Just like environment effected the people inhabiting it, an environment was just as vulnerable to this adaptation.

Before St. Victoria's had been a psychiatric hospital, it had been a boarding school. There was nothing particularly noteworthy about the school. Students had learned, teachers had taught, lessons had been conducted. No-one who graduated made any sort of name for themselves. In a word, the school had been entirely mundane. Eventually it shut down, lack of students and lack of funds, and that was that. Throughout its time as a school, the building had been just that – a building. Sure, there had been the usual rumours of students who committed suicide, and the ghost stories that always followed such rumours, but empty tales aside, there had been nothing outstanding about it.

The same could not be said any more. The St. Victoria's of today could not be described with the word mundane. Its inhabitants aside, the building itself... there was something about it.

Time passed strangely at St. Victoria's. It either crawled along, like when you look at a clock then after what seems like hours you look again only to find barely a minute has passed, or it disappeared without a trace, something just devouring the days and weeks and months without a trace.

People too. Just like how the time vanished, people at St. Victoria's had a nasty habit of falling off the face of the earth too, and not just the patients. By the time St. Victoria's reached 2010, there was not a single one of its original inhabitants still roaming the halls.

Environment and inhabitants have a direct effect on one another. It was a foregone conclusion that the inhabitants of St. Victoria's Institute for the Criminally Ill were mad. Why else would they be there? Over the years, the building itself seemed to soak up the mania that infected those dwelling there. Or perhaps it was the building that infected the people, the walls and the doors ensnaring them, the mirrored rooms showing them things that weren't really there, the very air poisoning them until they belonged in that place, even if they never had before.

 

 

۞

 

 

When Sebastian thought of his life, he thought of it as a play. Just like a play, it was divided into two acts. Act one and all the scenes within it were grouped under 'Pre-St. Victoria's'. Act two was simply 'St. Victoria's'. There was no middle ground, no shade of grey in between. There was before and then there was after.

In this play, Sebastian sometimes considered himself to be two characters played by the same actor. More and more, it was seeming that way. The Sebastian from before St. Victoria's had been hard-working, dedicated and, above all, a rule follower. Rules were there to be followed, after all, and he'd always found that he benefited greatly from doing so.

St. Victoria's Sebastian disagreed. He was breaking rules left, right and centre. He was going directly against his superiors. And he didn't feel a shred of remorse for doing so.

Pre-St. Victoria's Sebastian had been craving excitement. Certainly, he had that in excess now.

It had been four days since Finny's escape. In those four days, Sebastian had been understandably on edge. This was different than the Joker incident. It _felt_ different, anyway. This hadn't been a patient undergoing treatment. This had been staff, someone who was supposed to be safe from their harm, who had found out something he shouldn't have known.

Those four days had passed at a snail's pace. The seconds felt like minutes, the minutes like hours, and the days just refused to end as Sebastian waited to be caught out on his actions. After the third day, he'd begun to relax. Surely if they were going to act, it was going to be immediate?

Sebastian really should have known at that point not to assume logic had any place in the asylum.

It was on the fourth day after Finny's escape that Sebastian was intercepted by one of the three triplets on his way to the ward. Ash was requesting he come to his office.

Sebastian gave a curt smile, turning back the way he had come, all the while thinking, _well, shit._

Ash's office was almost identical to Claude's. In fact, it might have had even _less_ personality, if that was at all possible. A completely empty lacquered desk, two matching chairs on one side, a large swivel chair on the other, occupied by the fair-haired Head Orderly.

As Sebastian entered the office, a strong waft of disinfectant hit him. That was another thing about the office – it was immaculately clean, to a clinical degree. Not a speck of dust or errant paper lying around, every surface was glistening with a freshly cleaned sheen. Ash rose from the chair and extended his hand to Sebastian, and god, it was like the man himself had _bathed_ in disinfectant, he smelled so strongly of it.

“Good morning, Sebastian,” Ash greeted with a practised smile, gripping his hand a fraction too tightly, then letting go so quickly it was as though Sebastian's touch had burned him.

“Good morning, Ash. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Sebastian wasn't about to give the game away. It would have been a little awkward if Ash had called him there for something completely unrelated and then Sebastian went and let it slip himself.

Ash was transparently amiable. It was in the twitch of his smile, clearly desperate to twist into a sneer. The way his eyes kept glancing away from Sebastian, as though loathe to look at him for any extended period of time. The anti-bacterial hand gel he whipped out as soon as he was done shaking Sebastian's hand was a little hint too, of course.

“Please, sit down. I wanted to thank you personally for taking over my shift for me. You've been a big help.” Sebastian had to bite back a smirk. Ash sounded physically pained by making pleasantries, this unfounded mutual distaste for one another clearly hard for him to ignore.

Luckily, Sebastian disliked most people, so he'd had plenty of practise making nice with assholes.

“Don't mention it. I was happy to help. Are you feeling better?”

Please, let it be terminal.

“Oh, it was just a bout of the flu, nothing too serious.”

A guy could dream.

“I'm glad to hear it,” Sebastian lied, wondering how long Ash could keep pretending to smile like that before his cheeks started to ache.

“And Ciel? He had you playing one of his little games, I suppose,” Ash chuckled.

Sebastian mimicked the monotone laugh, “Yes. I tried to keep up with him, but he's a little too much for me.”

“Oh, he's a little too much for all of us.” Ash's smile faded away like a movie before the credits rolled, the pleasantries done with, down to business. “Truth be told, Sebastian, there was something else I called you here for.”

Sebastian cocked his brow, expression nothing but curious.

“I couldn't help noticing... your keycard was registered on the system during the night you took over my shift. In fact, it was registered numerous times.”

_Shit._

“What exactly were you doing wandering around the building like that, Sebastian?”  
If this didn't qualify as a clusterfuck, he didn't know what did. Why had it taken four days for him to be called on it? He'd let his guard down, thought the threat had passed. And why was he being called on it this time when both his ventures down to The Room had gone undetected, or more accurately, ignored.

Ash was smiling again, the type of smile small children ran from.

“It's _alright._ Curiosity is a weakness all humans suffer, Sebastian, and I see no reason to condemn you for it. No harm, no foul.”

...What? Sebastian kept his confusion from his face, not sure how he was supposed to reply. Was this some sort of test? He was fairly certain he  _had_ done harm – one broken door, three escaped employees, quite a night's work. 

Ash leaned across his desk, this time not shying away from making eye contact, lacing his fingers together like a Bond villain. All he was missing was the hairless cat.

“I just need to know... did you let Ciel out of the ward, Sebastian?”

Sebastian didn't hesitate, even managing to sound offended by the very idea, “Of course not. Ciel got bored of the lack of challenge I presented and went back to his room – said staring at the ceiling would be more entertaining than playing with me – and I... well, like you said, curiosity.”

It was such a lacklustre lie. Curiosity could account for wandering the halls, sure, but opening every single door along the way? And surely if the use of his keycard had been registered, so had Agni's? Agni wasn't even supposed to be on the ward that night, he'd have no excuse. Why hadn't he been called to see Ash? Not to mention the decimated door.  _Oh yes,_ Sebastian thought,  _I was_ so  _curious I resorted to vandalism._

Ash wouldn't accept such a flimsy excuse. No, he was fucked now. They knew he knew what they'd done, knew about Finny. Hell, as far as they were concerned, he probably knew whatever little secret Finny had found out about the Third Chairman too, and hadn't that been a punishable offence. No doubt the triplets were waiting outside the door, needles in hand, just like it had been with Joker and maybe Finny too – he could probably take them, right? He wasn't a novice when it came to fighting, after all. Three against one, though, and trying to avoid the needle at the same time –

“Yes, that does sound like him!” Ash chuckled, breaking Sebastian away from his little escape plan with a jolt, “I'm very glad to hear that, Sebastian. Please don't be offended. I only ask because, well, as you know the night shift has been my responsibility from before Ciel was even a resident here. So I know just how... _persuasive_ he can be. You wouldn't be the first he's wrapped around his finger, you certainly wouldn't be the last. But, you didn't let him out, so that's that.” 

Ash rose from his chair with a surprisingly good-humoured smile, clapping Sebastian's shoulder as he walked around the desk. Sebastian took that as his cue and rose too, baffled but relieved, and more than a little suspicious. He wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but didn't this all seem a little too easy?

Perhaps not that easy. As Ash opened the door for him, the smile turned chilly, and that palpable dislike was back.

“That being said, however, I'm sure you understand that I can't just let this go without some sort of reprimand. Therefore, I'm afraid you'll no longer be eligible to take over my shift for me, Sebastian.”

Sebastian didn't even get a chance to respond before the door was swung shut in his face.

 

 

۞

 

 

It was that time of year again; psychiatric evaluations, probably the most dreaded thing next to the weekly group sessions with Phipps and Grey. As it were, Phipps and Grey led the charge, John and his faithful 'friend' Albert providing back-up, whilst Claude sat in the back acting like he didn't know any of them.

One by one, the patients were led from the ward by whichever Orderly was closest and brought to Phipps and Grey's shared office. There, they'd be quizzed and assessed on the nine basic criteria. It was always an enduring affair for all involved, the patients unwilling to co-operate, the psychiatrists having no patience to speak of, and it was no wonder they only bothered with the annoyance once a year.

All day it had been going on and, finally, Ciel Phantomhive was escorted to the psychiatrist's office. He hadn't even taken the waiting chair before the assessment began.

“ _Never met a hairbrush, brat?”_ John wasn't even looking at Ciel, eyes hidden by those ridiculous sunglasses, facing the wall like it was the most fascinating thing he'd ever beheld. The puppet was looking at him. Well, as much as a thing with buttons for eyes _could_ look at someone. 

Great. Now even the dolls were critiquing his appearance. Hello, Rock Bottom.

Ciel had already decided he wasn't going to talk if he could help it. It had less to do with stubbornness and more to do with the fact that he was probably a better therapist than any one of them, and he actually  _was_ sectioned. 

The puppet managed to give the impression of rolling its eyes without actually having any.

“ _S'gone mute, now. Cat got your tongue?”_

“Ah, ah! He's allergic to them, remember? He wouldn't be mute so much as swollen like a blimp. _I_ think he's just being antisocial. Better get that down, Doc,” Grey joined the one-sided conversation, tutting at Ciel like he'd broken the good china.

“Duly noted. Antisocial, mute, swollen,” Phipps mumbled as he jotted the words on his clipboard.

Ciel's face actually hurt with the effort to not scowl, the morons doing nothing for his already short temper. His eye flickered over to the silent Claude then immediately returned to the wall, not surprised but still unsettled by the intense amber eyes he'd met. He'd seen them now, though, and was all the more aware of them. It was like he could actually feel them crawling over his face, his body, and how much could he see? It always felt like Claude could see everything, everything Ciel tried to hide, and he felt so bare under that gaze.

The ridiculous assessment continued, the three baiting an unresponsive Ciel and making up whatever diagnoses suited them. All the while, Claude was silent, set apart from the group, just watching like he always had done.

After the assessment, Ciel was led down to the infirmary for his physical. Claude dismissed the Three Stooges, taking Ciel down there himself.

“Hello, Ciel! My, haven't you grown?” Doctor was as bubbly as always, giving Ciel a beaming grin as he entered, and Ciel gave a slight nod. As a matter of fact, he hadn't grown an inch since his physical the previous year – not that he measured or anything, he hardly cared about such insignificant things – but at least the man tried.

“Sit, sit.” Ciel did as bade, taking the chair beside Doctor's. Without any further preamble, Doctor's hands were on him, recording his temperature, taking his blood pressure, measuring his respiratory rate. All the while, Doctor chattered away, but if asked later, Ciel wouldn't be able to tell you what about. Claude was watching him once more, leaning against the wall by the door, and it took all of Ciel's concentration to not give him exactly what he wanted. He stared at Doctor as though actually hearing his words, focused on not cringing away from the probing hands, resisting the temptation to smack them away.

He succeeded for the most part, at least until the weighing.

“Just stand right there – no, a little to the left – there we go,” Doctor chuntered beneath his breath, poking Ciel until he was standing right in the middle of the scale. But then his hand had drifted a little too low on Ciel's hip and, completely unintentionally, Ciel had lashed Doctor's hand away from him.

Doctor hadn't even looked away from the scale, hardly seemed to notice, but Claude's eyes had narrowed. Then Doctor was asking for a word in private, “Ciel, could you wait outside a moment? I need to speak with Dr. Faustus, just for a tick.”

Ciel could do nothing but oblige, irritation flooding through him. He wanted to stay, wanted to hear what they were saying about him, but he knew when to do as he was told. He'd fucked up, rose to the accidental bait.

Doctor had meant it when he said a moment. Ciel had barely touched the chair outside before Claude was exiting the infirmary. He didn't say anything, simply cocked a finger, not even stopping in his stride. He knew Ciel would follow, and resisting the urge to flip him off behind his back, follow Ciel did.

Their destination was Claude's office, a place Ciel had been very few actual times. Usually their sessions took place in other parts of the building, places it didn't matter if a mess was made, so the office was very unfamiliar to him. It did nothing for Ciel's unease, being in a room belonging solely to Claude.

Claude waited for Ciel to sit down before taking his own seat. The boy was worried Claude was going to tuck his chair in or something.

Claude removed his glasses and rested them on the desk, nothing now between Ciel and those amber eyes.

“I'd like you to tell me how you sustained those injuries, Ciel.”

Ciel couldn't help the small widening of his eye, barely perceptible shock that no-one would notice, no-one but Claude Faustus. The question took him so off guard that he actually couldn't speak, rather than simply choosing not to.

Claude took a slip of paper from his blazer pocket and read back, “A split head, a gash along the left palm, several scratches along the face and a heavily bruised back,” he looked back to Ciel, an inscrutable look flickering over his usually empty face, “How did you get these injuries, Ciel?”

He'd forgotten, actually _forgotten_ about the array of injuries he'd accumulated over the past two weeks. Surely those scratches should have healed by now? And had Agni really tackled him so hard that his back had bruised? Ciel kept his bemusement off his face, adopting a well-rehearsed smirk and quipping, “Clumsy me, ran into a door, Doctor.”

Claude acted as though he hadn't even heard Ciel's answer, that look from before resurfacing that Ciel didn't want to identify.

“Who did this to you, Ciel?”  
There was a definite edge to his words, an undercurrent of something sharp that Ciel didn't want to place. He didn't answer. Sure, he could concoct some story about rough-housing with one of the other patients, losing his temper and lashing out, but Claude would see through it. Somehow, Claude always knew when Ciel was lying, even when every one else fell for it.

Claude nodded as though accepting that Ciel wasn't going to answer. “On top of the injuries, Doctor noticed that you've lost quite a bit of weight since your last weighing. You're also displaying signs of exhaustion. Considering this, your injuries and your silence on the matter, I have no other choice than to conclude that you're self-harming.”

Before he could stop himself, Ciel scoffed, indignation plastered clearly across his face – and those amber eyes only watched him more intently, a flicker of what was undoubtedly satisfaction at having gotten even the slightest rise out of him – and Ciel forced himself to be blank once more.

Of course he couldn't tell the truth, but lying wasn't an option either. Claude would know, he always knew. Hell, some of the injuries _were_ self-inflicted. The scratches on his face and the gash on his palm, definitely. Neither could he honestly deny that he'd been eating and sleeping poorly since the entire Finny débâcle had begun.

So Ciel stayed silent, and once again, Claude took that silence for affirmation.

“As such, I'll be increasing your sessions with me. Rather than once, we'll be seeing each other three times weekly from now on.”

 

 

۞

 

 

“Medicine changes?”

There was a unified mumble which Joker took to be a negative. He nodded, pacing around the leisure room, his skeletal arm swinging uselessly behind him. He'd stopped keeping it in the makeshift sling Jumbo had made him a while ago, it only aggravating what remained of the tattered skin. His own assessment had been enduring, more enduring than he remembered any of his past ones being, and Doctor had been entirely too fascinated by his arm for Joker's comfort. There'd always been something about the man that had his hackles rising, the physical had done nothing to dispel that feeling. He was out of sorts, couldn't summon up his usual carefree demeanour despite his best efforts. That was having a knock-on effect on his companions, all the patients gathered together in the leisure room, discussing their evaluations as was tradition.

“Any of the staff act weird with ya? Touch you in the naughty place?” Even his usual attempts at lightening the mood had that unhinged edge to them, that he could hear himself but couldn't seem to stop.

“Mate, sit the fuck down, will ya? Just watching you is wearing me out,” Dagger exclaimed, grabbing the front of Joker's sweatshirt and pulling him down onto the couch.

“Sounds like we all had the same sort of thing,” Freckles stated, “Same old, same old, I guess.”

Dagger pouted, “Hardly! Bloody Doc says I've put on too much weight and they're putting me on a diet, can you believe that? They barely ever feed us, how the hell can I have put _on_ weight. I'm fading away-”  
“I wasn't gonna say anything, but your arse _has_ been expanding lately,” Beast couldn't help putting in, sending Dagger to his usual Corner Of Woe.

Soma, playing look-out, announced the incoming staff and the group dispersed, Ciel going over to his usual armchair. He'd been as silent as usual during the little gossip circle, not sharing just what the consequences of his evaluation had been. Absently, he wondered if perhaps the others were the same. Had things really not changed for them? Or were they just trying to avoid the worry, like Ciel was? The prospect of more sessions with Claude was a chilling one. He needed that week between them to recover, to regain footing in himself before the next session came and Claude broke his balance all over again.

As his mind wandered, Ciel's hands burrowed into his pockets, fingers skimming over the little paper note inside. Even now, he hadn't been able to bring himself to part with the post-it, despite constant reasoning with himself that he wasn't going to forget _again._ As his fist tightened around the paper, he saw them again, the trio leaving the Institute for good.

He could have gone with them. Sebastian had even said he wouldn't stop him. He could have climbed that wall and disappeared with Finny, turning his back on St. Victoria's once and for all. Not that he really believed that would be the end, of course, but it would have been some kind of start. He couldn't help thinking that this development with Claude was some sort of punishment – he'd had a golden opportunity for freedom, but he'd turned his back on it, and why? Because it hadn't sat with his pride.

_Moron._

Alois perched on the arm of his chair, slumping against the back with a sigh. He was worrying his lip between his teeth, the skin so red it looked ready to bleed. The starkness of the red made him look a lot paler than usual, and for the first time in a while, Ciel truly looked at his friend.

Alois looked ill, and not mentally. Circles almost as dark as Ciel's beneath his eyes, exhaustion just emanating from him, a weariness that seemed sown into his skin. Was another Jim episode coming on?

“I lied,” Alois confessed in a whisper, and if he looked tired then he sounded dead.

Ciel cocked a brow, waiting for him to go on.

“They have changed my meds. Didn't wanna tell them, cause – well, just didn't want to. They said it was gonna be an experimental trial. A month, then if it works, permanently.”

“What's it called?” Ciel asked, sitting up, also whispering without even noticing.

“Zydrate,” Alois replied, nose scrunched up in confusion. Ciel hadn't ever heard of such a drug either, and that did not bode well. “Your turn.”

“Faustus has upped my sessions. I'll be seeing him every Monday, Wednesday and Friday now,” Ciel shared, watching Alois' face carefully. He didn't miss the shadow form in those sky blue eyes, something sharper than just jealousy, and Alois' voice was sharp enough to cut when he chuckled, “Lucky~”

Ciel couldn't help the sudden feeling of uneasiness, having seen that expression on Alois before but never felt it directed at him, not before then. He tore his eye away, “Try and keep a diary or something of this Zydrate thing. Its affect, how it's administered, that kind of thing. More we know about it the better.”

Alois just nodded, not looking quite so exhausted any more. Ciel wasn't exactly the best at reading atmospheres, but goddammit, even he could feel that odd kind of tension that had descended on them. It wasn't something he wanted to acknowledge, however. Not now, at least, when he was already at his wit's end with the day and people as a whole. Without another word, Ciel rose from the chair and slipped into his room.

 

 

۞

 

 

Sebastian joined him shortly after. He wasn't looking too hot himself, a general air of being fed-up about him. Too much of the day had been spent fretting, not letting himself believe that that was it, that Ash was really just letting it go, just like that. He'd spoken to Agni; _nothing._ None of the higher-ups had summoned him to their office, no-one had called him on the use of his card, not even a slap on the wrist.

It made no sense then and it still made no sense after hours of picking it to pieces in his head.

He really had to stop trying to make sense of St. Victoria's. Many things dwelt in the asylum walls, but sense was not one of them.

Ciel glanced up from his book, briefly acknowledging Sebastian's presence. Sebastian nodded back, going about picking up some of the mess from Ciel's floor. He'd fought the urge for a while, he wasn't the boy's maid, but ugh, if he was going to be in here daily then he wanted to at least be able to see the carpet.

As he sifted through the dashing array of crap cluttering the floor, Sebastian announced, “Ash got me.”

That got Ciel's attention, a flicker of panic, “What happened?”

“ _Nothing._ That's the problem. The only thing that really came of it was Ash saying I wasn't eligible for the night shift any more.”

Ciel hummed, setting the book aside.

“That may not be such a bad thing, really, as long as nothing like the Finny thing happens again. It'll take the spotlight off you. The less noticed you are, the safer you are.”

“True. Still, it just seems too easy.”  
Ciel snickered, “I promise you, it isn't. _You're_ not the one who has to endure Ash all night. The man has the personality of a brick wall, and even less gaming skill.”

“True, that. So how did the evaluation go?”

“My sessions with Faustus have been tripled – self-harm accusations and all that,” Ciel grimaced, then added beneath his breath, too quiet for Sebastian to hear, “Not to mention Alois has come over all bunny-boiler on me.”

Sebastian gave a mock cringe, “Diddums. Have to say, Faustus aside... you actually seem in a rather good mood. You haven't taken my hand off for touching your stuff, for one thing.”

It was true. Although on the surface he seemed rather perturbed, the prospect of extended time with the bespectacled Doctor would do that to a person, Sebastian noticed that Ciel was more at ease. At Sebastian's words, a small smile curled Ciel's lips. Not a smirk, not a sneer, a sincere smile, as small and almost unnoticeable as it was.

“The repercussions were to be expected. After all, we went directly against the Institute, Sebastian,” his smile became a full-fledged little grin, almost impish, and he repeated with more vigour, “We went against the Institute, Sebastian. And we won. I've never had a win like this. They can throw whatever they like at me, at us, because at the end of the day, we _won.”_

 

 

۞


	15. Chapter 15

۞

 

**Chapter Fifteen**

 

۞

 

 

“Nausea is the primary concern. Usually we'd prescribe antiemetics if any nausea seemed to be setting in, but in your case, I'd rather not risk it. We don't know what the effect would be mixed with the Zydrate. Also, your sleep patterns may be affected. To which extreme, I'm unsure, but be prepared for both...” a sigh, “Alois, you're not listening.”

Nope. It was funny how Claude's voice could go from soothing to grating depending on Alois' mood. Right now, it was like hearing Soma sing. Pencil, meet eardrum. Eardrum, meet pencil.

The rain was really lashing down outside. It was bad, even by England's standards. The window of Claude's office was so streaked that all Alois could see as he resolutely avoided that disapproving look was the blur of greens and browns that made up the gardens. There was something almost hypnotizing about the way the water struck the glass, the little pings as it bounced back much more interesting to listen to than Claude's rambling about throwing up or whatever.

Not that that meant he was going to shut up, of course.

“If you feel out of the ordinary in any negative way, you must tell me immediately. Is that understood, Alois?”

The petulant pout he probably didn't even know he was wearing made way for a wicked grin.

“ _Immediately?_ So you'll come whenever I say so?” 

He looked Claude in the face for the first time that session. As always, there was nothing in his expression as he looked at Alois, just that careful blankness he gave everyone. God, it  _pissed him off._

Claude very obviously hesitated, searching Alois' face, and Alois made sure his was just as blank as Claude's. Two could play at that game.

“...Within reason, yes.”

Did he always have to speak so goddamn formally? It was like talking to fucking Spock.

“Even in the middle of the night, when all the other kiddies have gone to bed? My door's locked. How am I supposed to get to you?”

Ah-ha, was that exasperation Alois glimpsed there? It was gone as quickly as it came, of course, but it had still been there.

Alois: 1, Claude: 0.

“If such an occasion were to arise, you'd have to knock on your door to get Ciel's attention. He can tell Ash to come and find me.”

Alois had stopped listening as soon as Ciel's name had been spoken, any shred of humour he felt torn away. He didn't miss it. He was probably the only one who wouldn't. That  _something_ in the way Claude said Ciel's name. Claude always sounded like a robot, but when he spoke about the blue-haired boy, he sounded almost human. 

_No._ Alois steeled himself against the thoughts in his head. The jealousy was always the same – a searing fever, growing hotter and hotter as his vision grew greener and greener. The jealousy had claws that scraped teasingly at his chest, but at a word from Claude or a glance from Ciel, those claws plunged through him like a hot knife through butter. The jealousy didn't allow for logic, didn't care that Ciel was his friend, couldn't believe that Ciel didn't want Claude's attention. 

_No._ But Ciel was the only friend he had, and while he loved Claude, he couldn't let himself ruin that. Claude wasn't the one who sat with him through the Jim episodes –  _not any more, not since he saw Ciel –_ and Claude wasn't the one who bartered with Agni to get him a night light –  _but Claude made him think the dark wasn't so terrifying, anyway –_ and a guy needed a friend in a place like this. 

Alois fell silent once more. This time, however, it was not a petulant silence. He wasn't speaking, not to be contrary but rather because there was simply nothing to say.

Claude rose and walked over to a small fridge, one that certainly hadn't been there before. It was mostly empty, as though only there for display, apart from a small tray at the bottom. He carried the tray back to the desk, reaching into one of the drawers and pulling out a needle.

Claude prepared the Zydrate like there was an art to the process, going intentionally slow as though trying not to spook Alois. Usually, Alois would have been thrilled at the slightest consideration from the man, but all he could think was that Claude would never have entered Ciel for an experimental trial in the first place.

The needle was like ice when it broke the skin, goosebumps rising on Alois' arms. He couldn't stop staring at the liquid in the needle, entranced by the almost luminous blue of it. For a moment, he thought he'd still be able to see that blue glow even as it flooded into his veins.

“I've cancelled my other sessions today. I'm going to monitor how long it takes for the drug to take affect. When you start feeling different, let me know. As you're the first, we have very little prior knowledge as to how the Zydrate will affect your system, how long it takes, etcetera. So spare no details.”

The next hour elapsed in near silence. The only time it was broken was when Claude asked how Alois was feeling, and he was lucky to get so much as a monosyllabic answer. It wasn't even due to pettiness by that point.

Alois was blank.

Zydrate was slower than his usual medication but when it finally started kicking it, Christ on a bike, it was sudden. One minute, Alois was silently seething, the claws of jealousy sinking deeper into him. The next, there was nothing. A blissful blankness. He knew he was angry, and he knew why and at who, but the feeling just wasn't there any more. It was like his emotions had an ON/OFF switch and someone had flicked it to the off position.

His mind was unaffected. He remembered his anger, his jealousy, his fear that he was losing his two most important people to each other. He just couldn't summon up the feelings to go along with the thoughts.

It was like he felt nothing at all.

 

 

۞

 

 

Ciel Phantomhive existed in subtlety.

He was slouched in the chair Claude had brought in to the office especially for him, identical to the one he seemed to favour in the ward. Plush cushions, comfort was always Ciel's priority. Widely spread arms which only highlighted his short stature, he didn't need to appear visibly large when his very presence was larger than life. He sprawled across it, legs dangling over one arm, head resting on the other, his posture alone making it clear that Claude was lucky to have even a fraction of his attention.

The air of ease Ciel tried so hard to project was an entirely false one. It was amusing that he thought he had Claude fooled for a second.

While he lay across the chair as he did his own bed, he was visibly tense. A vein in his jaw jumped erratically, the fingers of his hands twitched as he fought the desire to clench them into fists and he kept shifting ever so slightly, as though wary to get too comfortable.

Ciel would never speak of fear, but words were always unnecessary for them, because Claude could see it any way. The way he'd catch a flash of Ciel's little pink tongue as he constantly wetted his dried lips, how the pupil of his eye would dilate whenever Claude made a movement Ciel wasn't expecting, how hard his heart was beating whenever Claude came closer than Ciel was prepared for, so much so that he could see the small movement of that frail chest.

Would Ciel run, he wondered, as Ciel grew increasingly uncomfortable beneath Claude's intent eyes, gaze darting to the locked door. Ciel didn't blush when he stared like Alois would, and he was glad for that. A blush would only have ruined that perfect porcelain paleness.

Those scratches at Ciel's temples had scabbed over now. His mind wandered, as it often would, to how another redness would look against that white skin. Not a blush, something starker, something he could touch –

“Am I supposed to start then?” The question was a sharp whisper, Ciel uneasy enough to ask it yet not daring enough to mean it. Still, it had the desired affect, stopping Claude's eyes from crawling all over him so shamelessly.

Claude had taken his glasses off again. Ciel hated it when he did that.

“Is there something in particular you'd like to talk about?” Claude asked, nothing if not polite.

Ciel scrunched up his nose, giving a lazy shrug of his shoulders, “No.”

“That's fine. I had a topic in mind, as it happens,” that flicker of uncertainty in his cerulean eye said more than any amount of scared screaming ever would, “I spoke to Angelina last week. She told me about Elizabeth's engagement.”

Ciel was hardly surprised. Claude had a way with words and Ann had always been susceptible to charm. Still, he wished she'd rambled on about her own wedding rather than give Claude the perfect opportunity to bring up Lizzie.

“How do you feel about the news? The two of you were very close as children, I believe.”

“I'm happy for her. Her fiancé sounds like a good man.” He sounded wooden, even to himself. It wasn't that the words were untrue. He just didn't like where this was going. Any time Claude started talking about Lizzie, it was never a pleasant conversation.

Claude didn't respond, going back to that shameless staring. Ciel's unease returned tenfold, not that it had ever left. Had he slipped up? Given something away in that minimal response? If he had, then that was it. Lizzie would be the subject, would always be the subject now, that Claude would use to get under his skin.  _Shit._ He didn't want Claude talking about her. He wasn't good enough to talk about her. 

Claude finally looked away. It was all Ciel could do not to sigh in relief. At least it was, until Claude took his notebook out of the drawer and began scribbling away. What was he writing? One sentence, it had been one sentence! How much could Claude have gotten from just that? Yet the pen kept scratching away, unbearably loud, and what lies was Claude weaving now?

Ciel had to make a conscious effort to stay in his chair. A part of him was desperate to demand to see what was being said about him, and another part of him knew that if he asked  _nicely_ enough then Claude would probably comply. 

“The wedding is in December.”

Of course it was. Winter was her favourite season, and what was more romantic than snow?

“Depending on the progress you make in our sessions, it may not be completely out of the question for you to be able to attend.”

Ciel gaped, actually taken off guard. Oh, but he wasn't about to mistake this as an act of kindness, he knew better than that after all these years. Claude always had that curious habit of saying one thing and meaning something else entirely.

And Ciel knew that when Claude made that statement, what he was really saying was that if Ciel behaved, co-operated and did exactly as Claude wanted, he could be free of St. Victoria's before the year was out.

Claude donned a chilling smile.

“So, Ciel, what did you do?”

 

 

۞

 

 

Agni's bedroom was entirely unspectacular. Very few personal touches, the bare minimum of clutter, and no doors to adjoining rooms. At least in that sense, he had it good and Sebastian was envious. Even now, he still woke up to the red-haired bed intruder and had constant attempts made on his life by Will, who seemed to think that Sebastian's very breathing disturbed his sleep. Well, pardon, Princess, but breathing can be a necessity.

It was for that reason that they had congregated in Agni's room rather than Sebastian's own. It was safer to assume that his neighbours were enemies than to think of them as, if not allies, at least indifferent to the goings on. Grell certainly did have that air to him, one of those people you met and just knew you'd be seeing on the news one day. Then there was Will, who was far too knife happy for Sebastian's comfort.

Regarding Ronald, he had no opinion. Honestly, he forgot the bespectacled man worked there most of the time. He spent more of his shift in the reception keeping the woman on the desk company than he did on the ward. Ronald seemed harmless. That probably meant he was the most dangerous one. Sebastian was going to keep an eye on him.

“Ash... No, he hasn't requested to see me. Why, has he you?” Agni asked, brow furrowed deeply.

“Mm, the other day. Called me out on leaving the ward when I was covering his shift. He's really not said anything to you? He made a point of saying that my keycard had been registered on the system. That means yours was too.”

While he should have been baffled, a part of Sebastian wasn't surprised. In an asylum ran by the lunatics, why should anything make sense? However, that meant that Sebastian had been singled out. He had an idea of just why, too. Ash had barely bothered trying to find out why he'd been wandering around the Institute – _curiosity, my ass –_ before jumping down his throat about Ciel.

Agni's card wouldn't have been registered anywhere near the ward, so there was no risk that he'd let Ciel out. Therefore no reason to call him out on the entire situation.

That begged the question of why they thought Ciel had been out of the ward in the first place. Were they just covering all their bases, or did they have genuine reason to suspect?

“The other _day?_ And you're only just telling me now?! What happened, what did he say-”

“Down, boy,” Sebastian snickered, “If anything had happened, after the state you saw Finny in, do you really think I'd be sitting here having this conversation with you?”

Agni didn't look convinced.

“What, so he just asked you then believed whatever lie you told him? Ash hasn't gotten to the position he's in today by being gullible, you know.”

“I couldn't agree more. It's ridiculous how easy this has ended, anti-climactic even,” Sebastian gave a half hearted shrug, “But it'd be even more ridiculous to keep digging into it. I'd only be shooting myself in the foot.”

Agni gave an exasperated sigh, “This won't _be_ easy, Sebastian. If they're treating this whole thing so lightly then it's for a reason, and probably a reason that's going to bite us in the butt. You can't be so relaxed about it.”

Sebastian just shrugged again, giving a _what can you do_ smile. Agni barely refrained from rolling his eyes. His friend could be so bipolar sometimes. One minute, he was all tension and action. The next, it was like the world was hardly interesting enough to keep him awake.

If one thing had come out of the whole Finny incident, it was the repairing of Sebastian and Agni's friendship. Repaired, yes, but that was not to say completely healed. Sebastian was still suspicious about Soma – though the rational side of his mind was wavering there, said suspicion was born from information of _Claude's,_ and really, should that be who he was making his judgements based on – and Agni was still resentful of that suspicion – though the rational side of his mind was also wavering there, Sebastian was only concerned and whatever had caused the man's accusations probably weren't his fault.

Regardless, the matter became the elephant in the room. Soma became a taboo subject between them. After all, they couldn't afford a falling out now that they knew just what their enemies could do – someone had erased a person's existence from everyone bar Sebastian's mind. That alone was enough to give them pause. How had it been done? Some sort of hypnosis, but surely that couldn't be done so suddenly to so many, and why exclude Sebastian? Perhaps a drug, but how had it been given to the staff without any outward traces?

They were no closer to solving the question of how, so instead, their thoughts turned to the question of why.

“I didn't really catch what that boy, Finny, said. But I definitely heard him say that he saw something he shouldn't have, something about the Third Chairman,”

“Yeah. You've been here longer than me, any ideas just who that is?”

Agni frowned, nibbling on his lip as he thought. “Not at all. To be perfectly honest, I never see the two Chairmen I _do_ know. They're not even on the grounds most of the time. They generally just leave things to the Head Orderlies. I think they both have offices in the city. This Third Chairman might do, too.”

“Wait, no,” Sebastian interrupted, shaking his head, “When Tanaka introduced me to Undertaker, he said that Undertaker was here year round.”

“No, Undertaker is never really here. I've never even seen him in his office,” Agni corrected, “So it wouldn't surprise me if the other Chairman is the same. As far as I know, _none_ of the Orderlies have met him.”

Well, this conversation was turning out enlightening. No one knew anything then. _Fan_ tastic.

“But Finny said that everyone was in trouble. Clearly this trouble has something to do with the Third Chairman,” Sebastian reminded Agni, who gave a troubled nod.

“So, do you think the whole Finny thing involved _just_ this Third Chairman, or other people? Do you think it goes as far as the Head Orderlies?”

Sebastian sat up, having been lounging on Agni's bed, suddenly restless. He took to pacing around the small room like a wild animal suddenly caged.

“No... no. This memory thing, whatever the hell it is, I have a feeling it's gone as far as Ash and Angela. I mean, Ash had me right there in his office, but he made no mention of Finny. Why not? Clearly there's no issue with hurting the staff, Finny is testament to that, so if Ash knew what was going on, there'd have been no point in pretending otherwise. He had me right there. He could have easily punished me, tried to anyway, but he didn't even seem about to try.”

Agni's mouth moved wordlessly for a moment before he slumped down in his chair, a portrait of exhaustion. “So, basically, we have no idea what's going on or what to do about it.”

Sebastian paused in his pacing, looking thoughtful for a minute, “...Nope.”

Agni rubbed at his eyes tiredly. “I guess the best we can do for now is to just keep our heads down and our noses clean, huh?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

They both knew plans very rarely worked out like intended. This went doubly for plans in St. Victoria's Asylum.

 

 

۞

 

 

They were meeting in Angela and Ash's office. There was something about the three of them congregated in that overly sterile room, all stood around the desk with their heads bent together that just screamed Evil Council Of Doom.

“He's a complete failure. Shouldn't have expected anything less, given that he's an acquaintance of that Agni's,” Angela hissed, the name leaving a bad taste in her mouth. She couldn't stand most of the things she was forced to rub shoulders with on a day to day basis, but the softly spoken and weak willed man was one of the worst. She'd rather squeeze lemon juice onto an open wound than be stuck in a room with him.

“Yes. From what I've seen, Michaelis will be useless to us,” Ash agreed, flicking a non-existent bit of lint from his shirt.   
The two looked towards the third person in the room, waiting for him to play yes man for them, but agreement was not forthcoming.

“You're being too hasty. Not everyone is going to be a Grell. Sebastian is a pig-headed person, he won't change his ways so easily,” Claude stated, looking from one sibling to the other. The distaste on their faces was crystal clear. It was his belief that they wanted Sebastian to be a failure, simply due to their dislike of him rather than any genuine proof. He continued before they could cut him off, “It's clear that the patients have gotten their claws into him. This isn't damage that can't be undone. He simply needs to be... _taught.”_

The fair-haired duo remained unconvinced, but they always were ones to think of practicality.

“New members of staff aren't easy to come by,” Ash grudgingly relented, “It would certainly be prudent to at least try.”

“And if we're unsuccessful, we can always just pass of the more menial jobs to him, I suppose,” Angela conceded, lip curled.

“Of course. Leave it to me,” Claude gave a tight-lipped smile, “I'm sure Sebastian will see our way of thinking, given the right circumstances.”

 

 

۞


	16. Chapter 16

۞

 

**Chapter Sixteen**

 

۞

 

 

The journal had been a gift from Claude. He'd given it to Alois a while before bringing him to St. Victoria's, back when he'd still been That Man's toy and when Claude had looked solely at him. He adored it like the rare treasure it was. The doctor was not a man who handed out presents to just anyone, after all. He knew that it had been chosen solely for him, too. It was bound by soft leather, the expensive kind that Alois had never had before, and all the pages were trimmed with gold, even though he knew it wasn't the real stuff he still liked to pretend it was. He loved it, just like Claude knew he would.

It was so nice that Alois didn't dare actually write in it. He'd only write silly things that would ruin the pristine white of the pages. Once the journal was written in, it'd officially be his, and he couldn't help not wanting that. He much preferred to think of it as something belonging to Claude, something of the man that only he held.

That was what he'd thought for the past few years. However, Alois had always been such a slave to his emotions, the negative ones in particular. In his anger with Claude, he tore the journal from its hiding place beneath his mattress, wrenched it open so hard the spine cracked and put pen to paper. He regretted it the instant the black, black ink left a spot upon the page, watching as the single dot of ink spread out, like tiny little spiders scurrying away from the tip of his pen.

He'd ruined it now.

It no longer belonged to Claude.

_Zydrate. Needle. Hour or two. Maybe even three. Dunno. Feels –_

Ciel had told him to keep a record of his course on the new and unfamiliar drug. Considering that he'd already ruined the journal, he was using it for just that. Well, he was trying to. What exactly was he supposed to write? Words had never been his strong point in the first place, even less so now that he was so fuzzy.

_Feels fuzzy._

So articulate. He rolled his eyes, scanning his barely legible scrawl and trying to coax more words from his pen. They were stubbornly resisting him, though.

_I like it._

He never got to watch much television. Between one thing and another, he was never in one place long enough to get settled in, never mind find time for luxuries like an hour or two lazing in front of the idiot box. Still, as with everything else he was lacking, Alois imagined what it would be like. Watching the lives of fictional people play out before him in technicolour, always finding the perfect punchline just in time to cut to the adverts, their antics invoking humorous dilemmas that were easily solved in convenient half hour time slots. Characters that you could easily meet in the street, befriend and be pulled into their world of weekly drama and angst, problems that you could relate to but not really worry about encountering yourself. That was the appeal of T.V, right? A way to shut off from your own reality by delving into somebody else's – that was what being doped up to the eyeballs on Zydrate was like.

He wasn't Jim McCain, though he hadn't been him for a very long time. He wasn't Alois Trancy any more either. Alois Trancy was a character in a show that he was watching. In this show, Alois Trancy was in love with the tall, dark and would-be-handsome-if-he-cracked-a-smile doctor, Claude Faustus, but tall, dark and would-be-handsome wasn't too interested in little old Alois any more. See, the novelty had worn off once the good doctor had found a new and shiny little boy to dote on.

The world of this show was a lot like the dog pound. All the mangy little mongrels that no-one at the shop had wanted, thrown into cages to paw at the bars and look pitifully cute every time a potential buyer sauntered past. Alois threw himself up against the wire closing him in, pressing so hard that the cold metal could cut into his skin, fluffing his soft blond hair until it looked perfectly dishevelled and batting his baby blue eyes, but Dr. Faustus just walked past without sparing him so much as a glance. Why would he, when just a few compartments down was Ciel Phantomhive, who didn't preen himself and pathetically claw at the wire ensnaring him, who sat in his cage and made it look like a palace.

He watched this show, with the Zydrate thrumming through his body, and laughed.

_How pitiful. Why can't he see he's not wanted?_

He watched Alois through the eyes of an impartial viewer and laughed. It had been a week now since Dr. Faustus had injected Alois with the blue, blue liquid and given him oblivion. In that time,

Dr. Faustus hadn't granted him a single fleeting look, didn't meet his desperate gaze even when Claude was enquiring after the affects of the drug. In that time, Dr. Faustus had had three more private sessions with Ciel, who also wouldn't look at him any more.

_I'm not jealous._

It was true. Alois Trancy was burning with the envy, so much so that there was no room left in him to feel anything else. But him, the blank boy with blue in his veins, wasn't jealous at all. And if he'd still been feeling things, he'd have been feeling so very glad for it.

_Yeah, I like it. It's the only thing keeping me from hating my best friend._

 

 

۞

 

 

“I want to talk about Vincent.”

A week had passed since Ciel's meetings with Claude had been tripled. One week, three sessions, three hours alone with the doctor and his poisonous lies and tempestuous eyes. The man was easing him in gently, Ciel knew. Innocent questions that he already knew the answers to – _your favourite food, Ciel? Your favourite colour, Ciel? What did you do, Ciel? –_ and no employment of his usual techniques when he didn't receive the answers he clearly wanted. He knew it wouldn't last though, this simple question and answer format that could easily be pushed from the mind as soon as he had walked through the door. That wasn't how Claude liked to do things, after all. For Ciel to be able to put the doctor from his mind once he was out of sight was simply not acceptable.

He should have known. It always came back to Vincent, always.

“Then talk,” Ciel said, words lacking bite, a mere suggestion. He kept his eye locked on the starkly white fridge in the corner of the room, an unfamiliar decoration that he didn't remember being there before. He'd found, over the years, that it was easier to keep his head when he didn't have to look at Claude. Something about the man's vacant face sent irritation prickling at his skin.

“I'll have to be more literal then – I want to have a conversation with you about Vincent. Naturally, this would include you talking too.”

“I don't want to talk.” The unsaid _to you_ lingered between them, heavy on the air like a bad smell.

Ciel could picture the flash in those eerie amber eyes. Anger? No, never anger, not at him. Disappointment, possibly. Whatever it was, he didn't want to see it. He much preferred those horrid eyes to be empty.

“I can't help you if you won't talk to me.” Hurt, then. The words had a definite wounded quality to them. Even though Ciel wasn't looking at him, Claude was managing to irritate him none-the-less.

Ciel sighed and began patting himself down exaggeratedly, as though looking for something that continued to elude him, “Sorry, I'm all out of fucks to give.”

The silence drew out between them, unnaturally long even for two such taciturn people, until Ciel felt the strong compulsion to look at the man. He didn't though. That was probably exactly what Claude wanted, after all.

“You parents moved to Renbon shortly after Rachel fell pregnant with you, isn't that right?”

Ah, back to business then. He couldn't get angry at Ciel, after all, not even when the boy was being intentionally antagonistic.

“So you tell me.” He found a sudden intense fascination with his fingernails, staring at the blunt and chewed tips of his fingers. There was a soft scraping as Claude pushed his chair back, the legs brushing across the carpet. Ciel didn't look at him as he rose from his seat, nor when he crossed around the desk and passed behind him.

“Yes. From what I can tell, your Mother was only a few months gone at the time. They were welcomed with open arms.”

Claude was back in sight, and Ciel hadn't even realised he was looking. He looked sharply back down to his hands. As the doctor returned to his seat, he placed something on his otherwise empty desk.

A file.

_Ciel's_ file. 

He couldn't look away if he tried.

“Your parents were very young when they had you, children themselves really. But Vincent was especially irresponsible. Fell in with the wrong sort in that town, didn't he, Ciel?” Claude's voice was a velvet murmur, quiet as though every word he spoke was a secret just between them, which it technically was. This was just between Claude, Ciel and that file. If that. He still didn't know what was said about him on those pages. Oh, he could imagine – crazy, delusional, a risk to himself and everyone around him. Lies upon lies that he sometimes thought Claude had actually deluded himself into believing. You tell a story enough times and it begins to seem like fact. It starts with a minor change, just a little detail falling through the cracks, like a game of Chinese Whispers, but then it grows and grows until the story is unrecognisable. How much of the truth was left in that file, he wondered now, how much had been lost between the tellings, and – _ow._

Ciel jolted in his seat. In that moment, he forgot his resolution to not look upon the doctor's face and glanced at him. Nothing. He carried on talking, the monotone not faltering for an instant, not a twitch to indicate that he'd felt a thing.

_zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee_

What the fuck was that? It – a noise, so loud. A noise as sharp as a knife, a whistle (was it a whistle, could a whistle be this piercing?) that cut through Claude's words and penetrated him deeply. He couldn't help it, the wince that twisted his face – couldn't Claude hear it? Why was he still talking, going on and on when that sound was so loud he could barely think. There was no way he was just ignoring it. That wasn't possible. No-one was this good an actor, and Ciel knew a good actor when he saw one, being in the trade himself.

...No. Claude had gotten up. He'd gone behind Ciel to get the file – and to do something else? He hadn't been able to see him there, facing the other way. Claude could easily have done something, triggered something to start this noise.

There was no way he couldn't hear it. He had to be pretending, to make Ciel think only _he_ was hearing it. That sly fuckrag was messing with his head. _Again._

With difficulty, Ciel wiped his face clear of any sign of discomfort, looking away from the doctor and back at the fridge. Already his temples throbbed with an incoming headache. Well, if Claude could ignore that noise so easily then Ciel could do it too.

“...ave you to them – Ciel, are you listening?”

Ciel shook his head to get rid of the fuzziness, “Yeah. No. What did you say?”

“We were talking about Vincent... You've gone awfully pale,” Claude's brow furrowed, “Are you feeling alright?” Ciel was sure that if he looked up, he'd see a glimmer of satisfaction, having finally gotten a response from him.

“I'm fine,” was all he said as the noise grew louder in his ears.

Claude seemed to hesitate momentarily, or maybe Ciel just imagined it, before he resumed whatever he'd been saying before.

“From what I've gathered over the years, you were a great source of friction between Vincent and Rachel, given the circumstances. She blamed him and he... he blamed you, didn't he?”

Ciel grit his teeth against the growing pounding in his skull. It was that sort of headache that you could feel right behind your eyes, a pulsing, and every sound became nails on a chalkboard. Except the whistle, of course. That was staying the same.

“No. He didn't.” His voice was even, calm. Good. Just as he wanted it to be.

“Ah. We've reached our first disagreement then,” Claude flipped open the folder, leafing through the sparse pages until he found the one he was looking for, “You were so young, you don't remember clearly, Ciel. I know it's difficult for you to accept, you clearly idolize the man, but you're at an age now when you have to acknowledge that your parents were people too. Children have a habit of putting their parents on a pedestal, separate from everyone else they meet, thinking that they exist solely to care for you. But the fact is that they had lives before you were born, had lives outside of raising you, had flaws and made mistakes just like you did. Ciel, your Father was a deeply flawed man and you can glorify him as much as you want but it won't change the fact that he did wrong by you-”

The noise – _zzzzzzzzzzzzzeeeeeeeeeeee_ – was getting so loud, if it got any louder his head was going to burst – _zzzzzzzzzzzzzeeeeeeeeeeeee_ – Claude needed to shut up, shut up with his filthy lies and stupid folder and looking at him like that.

“The sooner you stop lying to yourself and ignoring what really happened back then, the sooner I can help you get better, Ciel. This memory of Vincent that you have is false and is the only thing keeping you here, keeping you sick.”

He wasn't sick – except for the headache, which was Claude's fault, whatever the fuck he was doing with that noise that was making it hard to even string together a cohesive thought – _stop talking about Dad, you're a liar, he loved us, protected us._

“You need to remember. Your mind is trying to protect itself by hiding behind a lie you've created, and I've allowed that because you clearly needed it, but you're too old to pretend any more,” Claude's voice was getting that desperate edge to it again, gaining a fervour that sent a chill down Ciel's spine, “If you keep pretending like this, I'll never be able to get you out of here.”

_zzzzzzzzzzzzzzeeeeeeeeeeeeeee_

_Ow._

“The memories are there. You just need to access them. To do that, you need to think about Vincent. What Vincent let happen. What Vincent _did-”_

“ _Shut up!”_ It was a long, drawn out minute before Ciel realised the hissed order had come from him, that he was no longer sitting but on his feet and scowling at the doctor. His hands had curled into fists entirely without his permission, shaking with the foreign desire to lash out – completely foreign, he only resorted to physical violence when he lost all composure and... shit, had he? Vincent and the noise and promises of freedom that only trapped him more, had he lost his head without noticing? _Shit._ In front of Claude too. 

With more effort than the movement should have needed, Ciel slowly unfurled his hands and sat back down, reigning in the temper he wasn't even aware he'd lost. He had to look at Claude now, whether he liked it or not, to gauge the repercussions of his folly.

Most people would be perturbed if not downright angered by having someone shout in their face. Claude Faustus was not most people, anyone who knew him for more than five minutes would tell you that, so it was unsurprising that he didn't look bothered at all by Ciel's outburst. If anything, he looked mildly satisfied.

_Creep._

“I think we'll call it a day here,” Claude flipped the file shut, moving away from the desk to put it away, “I'll take you back to your room.”

A chilly silence lingered between them as they made their way back to the ward. Claude left him at the door, odd considering he usually walked him straight to his bedroom, but not inside,  _never_ inside. 

_zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzeeeeeeeeeeeeeee_

Ciel slammed the door behind him, jabbing a finger in his ear and twisting. The noise was quieter here, not the actual noise but just the residual echo from back in Faustus' office. Even so, it was still pretty fucking annoying, like a fly that continued to buzz around your head no matter how many times you tried to bat it away.

He stepped over the usual mess on his floor and flung himself down on his bed.

Great. He couldn't shut off. Sometimes he really hated how his mind refused to just _stop._ Just an hour, just a minute, it wouldn't give him a moment of peace.

_It's been six years. Don't let him start getting to you now._

Claude was about as honest as Ciel himself, he knew. He remembered Vincent Phantomhive with crystal clarity. His Father had been – well, not responsible, okay, but he tried his best. If there was one truth the doctor had said, it was that Ciel's parents had been no more than children themselves. So yes, Vincent could be immature, treating Ciel more like his friend than his son, but the love was unquestionable. When Ciel thought of his Father, he thought of warm words and gentle hands, an effortless grace that he couldn't imitate no matter how hard he tried, a shadow behind the eyes that he could copy all too well.

_But... didn't you think the same back then, about Finny? They made you forget. You were wrong once. How many other things have you been wrong about?_

No. The Vincent he remembered was real, as real as he himself was.

_You were sure about Finny too, before you saw that post-it note. How do you know that Claude isn't playing the post-it note here, that he won't say the right(wrong) thing and it'll all come back?_

That was exactly what Claude wanted him to think. Faustus was just fucking around with his head, Ciel knew that, and he wouldn't let himself start thinking any differently. It had been six years – he wasn't about to let them win now.

 

 

۞

 

 

In case it hadn't been beating a dead horse enough, let it again be stated, Sebastian Michaelis had had many jobs since he'd left full-time education. He had graduated college at the age of twenty two. It was in those two years between leaving school and joining the staff of St. Victoria's that his occuptation-whoring had taken place. Eventually, he began taking on jobs depending solely on their excitement factor. His favourite, though by no means interesting enough to keep him there more than a couple of months, had been lion-taming.

The training itself had been enduring. Not difficult but painfully mundane. Naturally, he excelled and completed it twice as fast as was the norm. A common misconception about lion-taming was that it was all about whipping the animal whenever it was bad until it associated those bad actions with pain. If that had been all the job entailed, Sebastian simply would not have been able to do it. To mar that feline's beautiful coat with unsightly welts? Blasphemy.

On the contrary, a large part of the job had been learning to read the animal's mood. Lions really were nothing more than big cats when you stripped them down to nuts and bolts. The lion Sebastian had been put in charge of had been a young female called Betty – sleek tan fur, almond-shaped eyes, long and lithe legs, she had been a beauty. A temperamental one, at that. So much so that the sanctuary couldn't have her in the enclosure with the other lions. Familiarising himself with her mannerisms hadn't been all that hard; when she was antsy, her posture was stiff and ready to move in an instant, her green eyes flickering around her frantically; when she was hungry, she prowled and keened, scanned the ground for anything to pounce upon; when she was content, she purred like a revving engine and sometimes even rolled on her back to offer up her belly for a rub. It was her anger he had to watch out for the most, however, as it could drop upon her so suddenly that Sebastian barely had a chance to scarper. Her ears would fall flat against her head, hackles raised, mouth twitching as she prepared to bare her teeth.

It was thanks to Sebastian's time as a lion-tamer with the temperamental Betty that he knew as soon as he entered Ciel's room that day that the boy was  _not_ in a good mood. 

The boy's back was turned to the door and if Sebastian hadn't known better he'd have thought Ciel was fast asleep. However, there was an obvious tension in his posture. His shoulders were all hunched up, just like Betty's would be when she felt the need to be defensive. His bare feet twitched, as though taking the place of the tail he couldn't have, the slight nervous jolts a sign that Ciel was ready to jump to his feet at the slightest hint of trouble.

“Afternoon,” Sebastian greeted, a little more cheerfully than was necessary. Predictably, the response was minimal, a sullen grunt that may in some language have been a word but certainly not in English. Well, he was nothing if not a trooper, so he tried again, injecting an ounce more sugar into his tone. Whenever Betty was acting up, Sebastian's attitude could often affect hers, after all. “How did it go with Faustus? PG-13, I hope.”

Ciel's back seemed to tense even more, if that was at all possible. Sebastian wondered briefly if he'd hit a nerve, the beginnings of worry curling in the pit of his stomach, but then Ciel threw himself off the bed and Sebastian could see his face. Oh, it was a face of thunder, no doubt about that, but it was an expression he was growing increasingly familiar with. One of annoyance, frustration, but nothing more. The curling tendrils unfurled as what might have become worry seeped away.

“Must you talk? Your voice is grating,” Ciel snapped, stalking over to his bookshelf and snatching a dog-eared paperback, yanking it open as he clambered back onto the bed. And then Sebastian may as well have been absorbed by the wallpaper, completely ignored as Ciel read the book – pretended to read anyway, it was difficult to read something backwards.

Well, the prissy little princess clearly wasn't in a mood to entertain that day. If sweetening Betty's mood didn't work, Sebastian's best bet had always been to beat a hasty retreat before he got a face full of angry lioness claws – or, more likely, a rubix cube to the nose.

“Apologies, Sunshine.” The words were so heavy with sarcasm, it was a wonder he didn't trip over them as he turned to walk out the door. He didn't get as far as the door, however, before Ciel was spluttering after him.

“Wait – where are you going?” The boy sounded so incredulous, like Sebastian leaving had come as a surprise. Oh yes, who could resist being in the company of that charming attitude?

“Outside to see the other patients. To spare your delicate ears my grating voice.”

A petulant scowl twisted Ciel's mouth. What may have been a threatening expression on someone else only managed to look sulky on him, much akin to the look a child would wear when they were just that inch too small to go on the big kid's rides at the fun fair.

“Oh, don't be so bloody sensitive. I have a headache, alright? That doesn't mean you have to go off in a strop. Just... sit down and don't talk,” Ciel sighed, gesturing to the desk-chair with one hand and rubbing at his apparently aching temples with the other.

Sebastian gave a quirk of the brow. No-one had to do him any favours.

“No, that's fine. I saw Beast out there. Don't think I've ever had a proper conversation with her before-”

“ _Stay.”_ All traces of a dark mood had lifted from Ciel, just leaving him looking exhausted and significantly smaller. The book hung limply from his hand, all but forgotten. 

“I'm sorry,” Sebastian was almost shocked, having thought the boy incapable of an apology, “That you went and got offended.” Ah, that was more like it, Sebastian's fault for being such a sensitive flower then. “I'm not in a very talky mood today. You can stay though.”

Sebastian spared him having to say any more, stepping away from the door and stealing the book dangling from Ciel's fingers. “If you have a headache, reading isn't a wise thing to do. If you can't sleep then at least rest.”

Ciel gave a stiff nod, going back to his bed and resuming the same position he'd been in when Sebastian had entered. The boy meant it when he said he wasn't in a talky mood, not a word spoken between them the rest of Sebastian's shift. He didn't sleep, just lay there facing the wall as though he was seeing something more than the royal blue wallpaper. Still, despite the silence, at no point did he indicate that he wanted Sebastian to make good on his offer to leave and before long that silence was more comfortable than anything else.

 

 

۞

 

 

Bard's departure from the Institute with Finny and Meirin had been a blessing in disguise, probably the best thing that had happened to the inhabitants, staff and patients alike, in a very long time. No longer did they look at their meals and wonder what creature it once was, or possibly _still_ was, whether or not it was even edible or just something the 'chef' had found in the gardens. It begged the question of just who Bard had been fucking to get the job in the first place. The person obviously had defunct taste buds.

After the trio's disappearance, it was decided that the remaining staff would go on a rotation. Every day, a different member of staff would be in charge of cooking the meals for everyone, their usual duties delegated to somebody else. This lasted as long as it took Grell to intentionally set the kitchen on fire so it would match his jacket. Even Bard had kept his accidental arson to once a week. After that, Ronald was appointed the new chef, for no other reason than he very rarely bothered to go to the ward anyway. As it turned out, Ronald was a much better cook than he was an orderly, and everyone was rather pleased with the decision.

Despite Ronald's surprising culinary talent, Sebastian continued to cook his own meals. The matter of his exception from the memory erasure still lingered in his mind and the only possible reason he could deduce, the thing that marked him as different from everyone who _had_ forgotten Finny, was that he cooked his own meals. Even the higher-ups, Ash, Angela and Claude, had their meals prepared by Bard. That still begged the question of who was tampering with the food, it surely hadn't been Bard, and exactly how they'd done it, Sebastian may have been cooking for himself but he still used the same ingredients, after all.

He'd convinced Agni to cook for himself too. They always say you could never be too careful, and that couldn't be more true than it was in St. Victoria's.

The two were eating breakfast together in the kitchen rather than the dining hall, sitting at the table Sebastian used to share with Bard, Finny and Meirin. They were mostly silent, the odd bit of small talk exchanged every now and then – things were rather awkward between them these days. When they weren't discussing the asylum and just what the hell was going on in it, they were both lost for words with each other. It was a little disappointing, truth be told. Sebastian couldn't help thinking of that stupid phrase, something about friendship being like glass. Once broken, it could be fixed, but those cracks would always be there. He hated such tripe with a passion but sometimes it really proved to be true. Back in college, he and Agni had been able to talk for hours about absolutely nothing with ease. Now, because of mutual misplaced concern, they struggled to come up with more than _terrible weather today, isn't it?_ More than sadness over a rift in their friendship, however, was a deep concern; now that they were drifting apart, would Sebastian be able to trust Agni with his back if it came down to it? He had no one, really, in this place. Yes, he trusted Ciel, but only to a certain extent. At the end of the day, the boy was a survivor. There was always the chance that if freedom presented itself to him, he would readily throw Sebastian to the dogs to grasp it. Agni, though, he'd been running on the assumption that Agni was a certainty. Now, however – could what was true for Ciel also be true for Agni? Would Agni be willing to toss Sebastian aside for himself, or worse, Soma? The fact that Sebastian had to even ask himself that question was proof enough that his trust in Agni was dubious at best.

“Oh – here's trouble,” Agni mumbled to him, pulling Sebastian from his thoughts, looking purposefully down at his mostly empty plate. Not a moment later, footsteps, quick yet purposeful, sounded from the doorway behind him.

“Good morning,” Claude greeted, nodding to both of them in turn, his eyes only meeting Sebastian's. They each muttered a response, more a grunt than words. It seemed they two of them had given up on even trying to hide their disdain for the man. “Sebastian, you won't be working on the ward today. You're long overdue for your staff training.”

Sebastian nodded slowly, a sense of unease washing over him as he shared a look with Agni. He'd been at the Institute over half a year now. Overdue was an understatement.

“If you've finished eating...” Claude trailed off, eyebrow raised in question.

“Not just yet,” Sebastian replied, despite his plate being almost entirely empty and his stomach completely full. Childish as it was, he intended to make the man wait, just for the sake of it. A part of him hoped Claude would offer to wait elsewhere so that he could ask Agni just what staff training entailed – a little voice in the back of his head wondered if this was what they'd told Finny before he'd disappeared, had the gardener been whisked away for a botany lesson but instead received a lobotomy? – but no, Claude just nodded and continued to hover beside him as Sebastian poked the dregs of his meal around the plate.

And Sebastian had thought Ciel was bad at reading the atmosphere.

“Well, I'll see you later, Agni,” Sebastian relented, standing and scraping the unwanted egg yolks into the bin then placing the dish into the sink. Claude didn't say anything, just gave another curt nod and strode from the kitchen, not even looking back to see if Sebastian was following. Reluctant as hell to do so, Sebastian threw Agni a _what can you do_ look and made his way after his superior.

It was a slight comfort that Claude had called him away from his shift in front of Agni. If there was a witness to his being taken somewhere then it was all the more likely that he was coming back, Sebastian supposed.

The comfort was a fleeting one. He wasn't at all sure where he was being led by Claude. He'd seen the entire hospital building from basement to top floor, albeit for only as long as it took to sweep a room without being caught, and there'd been no rooms that seemed to be for training. What kind of training did he need at this point anyway? A little over six months he'd been at St. Victoria's and all he'd done, officially at any rate, was keep the patients company during the day. Occasionally he cleaned up. Very rarely he had to restrain one of the kids when they took a sudden violent turn, though even then he was often beaten to the punch by one of his disturbingly eager co-workers. Maybe this training was just protocol, more for show than anything else? Even so, he had a hard time believing after seeing the way the place operated that they'd bother with such things.

The comfort abandoned him completely when Claude began leading him downstairs rather than up, towards the basement, towards The Room – ah, so that was it. A delayed punishment? Ash had been lenient but Claude had other ideas. His blood turned to ice in his veins. Jesus, had this been how it happened with Finny? Taken away, none the wiser that he wouldn't be returning, that he was going to be completely forgotten. Was it going to happen again with Sebastian? Would his name not even be a memory in the minds of the people he'd met here? No-one would be any the wiser. Sure, his Mother might poke around after a while, but even then, that would take a _long_ while. He'd made a point of letting her know he couldn't get in contact often. And besides her, there was no-one. Sebastian moved around so often that he never bothered staying in touch with any of the brief friends or lovers he acquired along the way –

“Ah, boys! Finally,” a booming voice exclaimed, not so much pulling as dragging Sebastian from his turbulent thoughts. Without Sebastian's noticing, Claude had led him not towards but away from those matching doors that led down to Room 1800. They veered away, down a corridor he... didn't remember. That couldn't be right. Between the three of them, Sebastian, Ciel and Agni had traversed the entire building, hadn't they?

Doctor wheeled himself towards them with a beaming grin, out of breath, face shining with sweat. His curling chestnut hair was pulled tightly into a bobble, though as Sebastian looked at him, strand after rebellious strand sprung free. Coupled with the happy shine in his eyes, the bespectacled man had a manic quality that Sebastian hadn't expected from him. When he'd first met Doctor, he'd took a shine to him instantly, respecting the man's passion for his work. Now, knowing what he did, he couldn't help but wonder just what that work entailed. The initial liking was curdling into something sour, Sebastian unable to help falling back on mistrust.

“My apologies, Doctor. I caught Sebastian in the middle of his dinner,” Claude explained, possibly the first time Sebastian had seen him show a shred of respect to someone else.

Doctor waved a hand flippantly, “No bother, no bother. Let's just get stuck in, shall we?” And with that, he turned around and was making his way down the unfamiliar corridor, the other two men trailing behind him. They couldn't have walked for more than five minutes before they reached a door. It was unlike the sparse few other doors along the hallway, which had been the usual electronic, industrial grey fare. This one was right at the end of the hall, a door identical to the ward door in every way but one – where the ward door had the electronic panel as all the others, this one had a keyhole.

Sebastian sent a questioning glance to Claude but was ignored.

Doctor rolled himself right up to the door, fumbling in his white coat's many pockets. When he found what he was looking for, he gave a pleased hum, pulling a long piece of string out of his pocket. Tied to the end of the string was a tarnished silver key.

“Now, Sebastian, you have to be sure to listen to what I and Dr. Faustus say, alright? And I mean as soon as we say it, no back-chatting. If you're not quick, you could get hurt, mmkay?” Doctor chattered away as he unlocked the door – Sebastian was looking closer now, could see that unlike the others doors it didn't have a number, but a letter, Room V – and ushered them inside in front of them.

It took a lot to strike Sebastian Michaelis truly speechless. Room V managed it at first sight.

It was entirely white. Even by a hospital standard, it was the whitest of whites, as though colour had been a privilege not deserved by the inhabitants of that room. The fluorescent lights were blinding, the kind of bright that burned behind your eyelids and made you see dancing spots. The room was segregated into little plastic compartments – transparent cages without bars or locks, completely impenetrable. The floor of these cages was not the same as the floor outside of them. Whereas the floor Sebastian stood upon was sleek and clean linoleum, the bottom of those cages was rough wooden floor boards. Around the edges of the cages, the linoleum was crudely cut, tore up from the ground. The wood inside was splintered and filthy, coated in god only knows what, looking as though it was ready to collapse beneath the slightest of weights. The smell of the room was foul, so heavy on the air that his eyes began to water and he actually had to take a step back. He wouldn't let himself even try to identify what that smell was made up of. The worst thing though, the thing that had actually blanked Sebastian's mind, was what was inside those cages.

People. At least, what had once been people. It was difficult to attach the word to... them. There was nine of them in total, one filling almost every cage in the room bar the final compartment right at the far end. They were dressed in baggy white sweatshirts and baggy white sweatpants. Their faces were skeletal, sallow skin stretched impossibly tight over their bones, eyes sunken so deeply it was a wonder they could see at all. Their mouths were like a jagged gash, some had no teeth at all, others looked more like chunks of glass was protruding from their gums. They seemed to be covered in their own filth, matted with blood and excrement, and the source of the smell was crystal clear. Some of them were huddled in the corners of their cages, arms wrapped tightly around themselves and rocking, while others were rampant, flinging themselves at the walls entrapping them and seeming unaware of the damage they were doing to themselves. One thing all nine of them had in common was the screaming. Together, a horrific harmony, they screeched. No words, nothing intelligible at any rate, just a scream of raw agony.

A hand descended on his shoulder.

“I know it looks inhumane, but as you can see, there's nothing human left of them any more,” Claude murmured into his ear, standing so close Sebastian could feel the heat of his body. Firmly, he turned Sebastian to face him, looking at the nearest cage with what could only be described as a deep loathing. “These are the experimental patients. They're much more severely ill than the patients upstairs. There is very little chance of rehabilitation for them. As such, they've been chosen to undergo new treatments. These treatments... they may seem cruel, but they give at least a sense of hope to otherwise lost causes. Under Doctor's and my instruction, it will be part of your job to administer these treatments, Sebastian.”

Sebastian could only gape at Claude, well and truly speechless. Doctor took over then, launching into an earnest speech about the patients, referring to them only by number, and detailing their individual treatments. It went in on ear and out the other, absorbed by the chaos of the patient's agonized screams.

 

 

۞


	17. Chapter 17

۞

 

**Chapter Seventeen**

 

۞

 

 

Spiders. They were on him. So many legs, feather-light, scurrying over his arms and chest and legs and – _disgusting –_ he could almost feel the little hairs on their too-many legs, bristling against him as though they were the ones angered.

Disgust. Spider legs of disgust prickling at his flesh, crawling and making him want to scratch, scratch and claw at himself to get rid of that horrendous disgusted writhing beneath his skin. He began to do just that, to push back his sleeves and rub at his arms, trying to get rid of the goosebumps that had risen there. He scratched until his arms were red raw, little white trails from where his nails had dug in too hard, but the disgust lingered upon him like a second skin.

An odd compulsion washed over Sebastian and he dragged himself from his bed. He didn't worry about making so much noise at such a late hour, no doubt disturbing his seemingly nocturnal neighbours as he gripped the sides of his chest of drawers and pushed it, skidding it across the wooden floor so that it rested in the middle of the two adjoining doors. Both were half-blocked now and those scurrying spiders upon his skin calmed a little, the itch not nearly as maddening.

If nothing else, Grell and William could not get inside his room, not that night.

An exhaustion that weighed too much suddenly fell upon Sebastian. He stumbled back to his bed, dropping on to it without any of the usual effortless grace he possessed.

_I can't..._

He could still hear the screaming. In all his years, he had never heard a sound like it. It had barely been human. He could hardly believe a human capable of emitting such an agonizing sound. The noise had filled the room in a physical way sound should not have been able to, just as much a presence there as Sebastian himself. It had reminded Sebastian of being on a train at rush hour; people pressed tightly against your back, your chest, your sides, until every breath you were breathing was just someone else's damp and far too close exhale, complete strangers standing closer to you than even your family would deem suitable. The screaming had been so... _there,_ like a stranger on a train, brushing against his shoulders. It was almost like it had followed him back to his room, the echo of the scream still rattling within Sebastian's skull as he lay in the stagnant quiet of his bedroom.

_They can't expect me to..._

He could still smell that smell. He hadn't wanted to think about it, what could possibly make up such a rancid odour, but just a single glance at the inhabitants of the room had left very little to the imagination. The place may as well have been a pigsty, the unfortunate patients just left in their little enclosures to wallow in their own filth. Vomit, excrement, blood – it had dried onto their clothing, matted into their hair, crusted upon the floor. Just seeing them made Sebastian long for the not entirely spotless bathroom that the staff all shared. To stand beneath that spray of scolding hot water and wash away the filth that had seemed to migrate to him, as though aware that he was clean and wanting to sully him.

_I won't..._

The experimental patients and their radical treatments, devised by the asylum's higher-ups, had been explained to Sebastian in excruciating detail by Claude and Doctor. For every technical term the two had used to explain the 'treatments', Sebastian had heard but one; _torture._ There was no hiding behind medical and psychological justifications, no insistence that what was being done was in any way to help those pitiful creatures, not even an attempt at the paper-thin subtlety that the patients upstairs received. It was plain and simple torture.

And Sebastian was expected to take part in it.

Oh, there was pandering to his obvious repulsion, of course. Claude was quick to see the look in his eyes and to silence the clearly oblivious and enthusiastic Doctor. Reassurances that the patients were too far gone for regular help. Only the most intense of treatments could get through to them now. There's so little human left of them now _anyway._

Sebastian wished he could have disagreed to that last one, but... eyes with no intelligence watched them through the plastic, the patients prowling on their hands and knees around their enclosures, misshapen teeth bared and feral growls tumbling from their lips. He wished he could have disagreed, but goddammit, Sebastian wasn't about to start lying to himself.

He heaved a frustrated sigh, once again rising from his bed and stalking towards the door. Thankfully no-one crossed his path along the way and the bathroom was unoccupied, unsurprising given the late hour. Just to be safe, he twisted the lock, slumping against the back of the door and sliding down to the ground.

He'd been fine, really. Disturbed as fuck, yes, but still managing to somehow keep his head despite the screams trying to shatter it. And then he'd seen Patient V9. On the right side of the room, in the second to last plastic partition, V9 was wailing the loudest of them all. There was not a single word in the sound, not even an attempt at one, just unintelligible noise seeming to almost explode from his mouth like a speaker. With every scream he made, he flung himself unreservedly against the walls of his encasement. A dull thump punctuated the continued assaults, his broken shoulder leaving a growing smear of blood upon the already smoggy plastic. Sebastian couldn't help a small wince every time that small body made impact, could almost feel the heavy crash of bone against wall. As if the blood upon that wall wasn't enough, V9 was completely caked in it, dried and crusted to a rusty brown upon his clothes and skin. Particularly the left side of his face, so thick was the residue there that Sebastian could actually see little cracks in it. Without realising it, Sebastian's feet took him closer to the cage, and he could see V9 more clearly beneath the florescent lights. There was so much dried blood upon the left of his face, but where his left eye should have been, there was a gaping, infected hole.

Repulsed, Sebastian had stepped back, but still he clung to what remained of his calm. The final little dregs trying desperately to flee, he sunk his claws in and dragged them back to him, held them close – perhaps if he'd looked away from Patient V9 a second earlier, he might not have recognised him. Hindsight always had been a bitch, no more so than then. Sebastian had let his eyes linger upon V9 that moment too long and in that moment, he saw beyond him. Past the blood and raw, animalistic demeanour, and saw that the experimental patient now launching himself at the partition separating him from Sebastian was Peter.

Peter, who had been introduced to Sebastian as one half of the resident Neverland couple. Who had never been far from Wendy's side, always jumping to her defence, whether she needed it or not. Who had disappeared from the ward what felt like a lifetime ago, the one Joker had gotten tossed into The Room looking for, the one they had all just accepted to be dead by this point.

Sebastian's eyes suddenly swam, the bathroom seeming to sway dangerously, and he barely managed to drag himself to the toilet before he lost his dinner. His skin was damp with sweat, the air cold as it touched him, and he retched until it hurt.

“ _We are nowhere near being done with little Peter yet.”_ Sebastian had heard Angela speak those words while he had hidden in Claude's cupboard, had watched as Joker was dragged away for the sole crime of defending a friend, and those words suddenly took on an entirely more sinister meaning. Honestly, he'd forgotten all about them in the chaos of things – finding out new information about St. Victoria's, forming an odd sort of camaraderie with Ciel, breaking the rules and seeing the true shadow of the asylum – but now they resounded heavily in his ears. 

Sebastian had thought he had nothing left to lose but his body begged to differ, forcing him over the toilet bowl to heave once more.

He just couldn't reconcile the images, the fleeting memories he had. Peter, tiny but big in spirit, an ensemble character who had disappeared before the first scene had even finished, noticeable in his absence from Wendy's side. And then  _that,_ Patient V9, something Sebastian was having difficulty even thinking of as a person. 

More questions than ever before battled for dominance within Sebastian's already rattled mind; what had they done to Peter, and what could he have possibly done to deserve such a loathsome fate? Had that been what was to become of Finny before they'd intervened? And was that what was to happen to the other patients from the upstairs ward, even Ciel?

 

 

۞

 

 

It was a sleepless night for Sebastian, Ward V burned into his mind, visible every time he closed his eyes as though he were still standing in that hellish room. He bypassed the kitchen and went straight onto the ward in the morning. Breakfast was not an appealing prospect, made even more unpleasant by the possibility that he may get cornered by Faustus once again.

He'd developed something of a routine these days. If his shift began in the morning, he made his rounds with the other patients. Depending on who was up, sometimes he ended up playing the straight man to Joker and his endless attempts to lighten the mood on the ward. Other times he found himself in some bizarre and one-sided staring contest with Soma, who continued his new habit of making sure he was on the other side of the room from Sebastian before pulling faces at him. Either way, regardless of who he wound up keeping company, he never went straight into Ciel's bedroom. Although no-one had called him on or even seemed to care about his flouting of the no-doors-closed rule, Sebastian didn't want to seem too blatant and draw attention to his being in there so often. If everyone else was willing to play ignorant, he would make it as easy as possible for them. Today, though, he wasn't in any kind of mood to be playing nice. Ignoring the sparse few early risers milling about the leisure room, Sebastian strode from the ward door over to Ciel's bedroom, entering without any warning.

The room was bathed in shadow, thick black curtains pulled across the one small window that light could have crept through. The mess was less than usual, thanks to him not being able to bear being in such a cluttered room where a slight fall was likely to be lethal, Ciel apparently favouring the more pointy toys. Said boy's head was barely visible peeking out the top of the covers, a quiet breathy snore telling him that Ciel was deeply asleep.

To wake or not to wake? Sebastian would probably be needing his head for the conversation that was soon to follow, so rather than risk it being bitten off by a groggy and pissed-off cyclops, it was probably best _not_ to wake him.

Resigned to a long wait, Sebastian carefully stepped over the mess and dropped onto the desk-chair. His eyes were sore and dry, no amount of blinking enough to ease the tiredness, until he stopped bothering to even open them. Elbow on the desk and chin resting in his hand, the quiet of the room punctuated only by the sound of their breathing, Sebastian finally succumbed to the lethargy.

As it happened, the wait wouldn't have been too long. Over the years, Ciel had become very sensitive to his surroundings. Sounds, smells, the presence of another, the slight changes that could possibly be a threat. It wasn't the sound of Sebastian closing the door behind him that awoke Ciel, nor the careful tread as he made his way to the chair. Instead, it was the rustle of clothing as he

shifted in his sleep that had yanked Ciel from the foggy in-between of sleep and consciousness.

Squinting into the darkness of his bedroom, Ciel pulled himself up from beneath the sheets, body tensing. Logically he knew there was only a handful of people it was going to be, the ones daring enough or that uncaring of Ciel's wrath, so he wasn't surprised when his eyes finally adjusted to the lack of light and it was Sebastian he saw.

Ciel shoved the curtain aside, morning light chasing away the shadows. In the new light, he could see that Sebastian _really_ wasn't looking very well. His usually pale skin had taken on a pallid yellow hue, the man slumped over his desk at what had to be an uncomfortable angle, so deeply asleep that he didn't notice the pencil poking into one of his cheeks.

To have actually fallen asleep in his bedroom, Ciel figured Sebastian had to be feeling under the weather. His face so weary even in sleep, the boy almost felt sorry for him.

“Oi, slacker!” Sebastian was thrust back into the waking world by a good hard kick, enough to knock him off the chair.

_Almost._

“Sleeping on the job? Tut, tut,” Ciel scolded, shaking his head disappointedly. For the young Phantomhive, his emotions tended to cancel each other out quite fiercely. So if it were a competition between feeling sorry for someone and being annoyed at them, no prizes for guessing which one won out. Someone being in the room while he was asleep was a foul, plain and simple.

“Apologies, your Highness,” Sebastian snapped, picking himself up with a scowl much more common on Ciel.

“What crawled up your arse and died?” The hypocrisy was apparently lost on Ciel, his own dark mood from the previous day either forgotten or purposefully ignored.

Rubbing at his eyes, Sebastian reclaimed the chair, “Couldn't sleep last night. Anyway, I have news-”

Ciel held up a hand, shaking his head, “It'll have to wait. You should get out. I've got an appointment with Faustus soon.”

“You had one yesterday, didn't you? I thought they were every other day.”  
“They're _supposed_ to be. He can't do tomorrow, apparently, so lucky me gets two days in a row. If he sees you in here when he comes to get me-”  
“It can't wait,” Sebastian interrupted. It was unusual for him to speak across someone. Even in his most sarcastic mood he remembered his manners, or more, remembered his Mother's slipper across the back of his head. Mama Michaelis was not at home to rudeness.

Ciel studied the odd expression on the man's face, unease beginning to creep into his bones. Sebastian watched in bemusement as Ciel gestured him silent, sweeping over to his bedroom door and rapping sharply upon it exactly three times. There was no reply as far as he could see, no indication that the boy was expecting one, and only once Ciel was back on his bed did he signal for Sebastian to continue.

And so Sebastian did. He'd been worried he wouldn't have the words to describe that place and the creatures within it, the things he was expected to do to them, but once he started speaking the words just wouldn't stop. He'd never been one for rambling, but then and there, whatever filter that usually existed between his brain and his mouth just put up its feet and called in a sick day. At first, Ciel looked disbelieving. However, as more details tumbled forth from Sebastian's restless tongue his expression warped, disbelief making way for distinct unsettledness.

“Did you have any idea that there was a second group of patients?” Sebastian asked when Ciel didn't seem about to break the silence. He'd expected the boy to go completely white, be visibly spooked and start clutching at that bloody post-it note that he still had hanging around somewhere. Instead, apart from the clear anxiety, Ciel was otherwise calm. When he spoke, he sounded more dazed than anything else.

“There were... rumours, I guess. I mean, they were from _Dagger_ of all people,” Ciel's nose scrunched up in concentration, “He heard from Soma, who was told by Agni, who I think overheard something from Ash? Hardly a viable information source. Besides, Dagger's also convinced that Angela's really a man and that Ronald attacks people with a lawnmower. Forgive me if I was sceptical.”

Sebastian was less than sceptical about the latter, but right then hardly seemed the time to start questioning whether Angela was really a cock in a frock. He opened his mouth, questions at the ready, only to pause – Ciel was staring at him. Not in the polite looking at someone who's speaking to you way, but in a way Sebastian couldn't quite place. It was a very odd look, one he hadn't been on the receiving end of before, especially not from the boy. It was... guarded _,_ almost. Calculating. _Wary._

Three sharp knocks on the door cut through the silence that had descended upon them, almost making Sebastian jump. Freckles poked her head through the door, “He'll be here in a bit,” and left it open behind her.

Ciel was still watching Sebastian with that foreign caution, voice mild but impersonal when he said, “You ought to leave. Faustus is on his way.”

 

 

۞

 

 

Claude was speaking, his monotonous voice drifting in one ear and out the other as the hour and a half of their session elapsed. He may as well have been talking to the wall behind Ciel, it was probably listening more than him anyway.

Ciel had been about thirteen when Grell Sutcliffe had arrived at St. Victoria's. Back then, the patient line-up had been different. He himself had only been there for going on two years, not yet the veteran he would become. He didn't know these patients like the ones who would later arrive, didn't care to know them either. They were too far gone, too taken in by what the asylum wanted them to be, so Ciel had to always be on his guard. He made a point of being there when new people came through the ward door, familiarizing himself with them.

The first thing that had come to his mind when Grell Sutcliffe had followed behind Angela into the ward was _not a threat._ The man was a bumbling mess. Long and stringy brown hair that escaped the badly tied red ribbon at the back of his head framed a pallid and openly nervous face, anxious and oddly chartreuse eyes flickering from one patient's face to the next. His trembling hands had fiddled with his uniform, as though incapable of staying still for a mere moment, one second straightening out the vest he looked plainly uncomfortable in, the next yanking his sleeves down to cover his hands completely. The second thing Ciel had thought as he looked at the mouse of a man was _fucking moron._ He wore his fear like a badge. There may as well have been a flickering neon sign above his head – EASY TARGET, CRAZIES, EAT ME WHOLE – with an arrow pointing to the pathetic little man. If there was one thing Ciel had learned in his two years there, it was that you did _not_ show the remotest sign of vulnerability to these people. Vulnerability to an insane person was what a weeping woman on Valentine's Day was to a serial womaniser. An easy catch.

It had taken only a single month for The Change to capture the shrinking violet that was Grell Sutcliffe and turn him into the sadist monster he was to become.

The first thing to cross Ciel's mind when William T. Spears was led onto the ward was _christ, you're in the wrong job._ He hadn't been nearly as timid as Grell had, or at least he hid it better if he was, and he met the eyes of the patients without any outward sign of being intimidated at all. However, it was painfully clear that the only patient he was older than was Ciel himself. The man couldn't have been pushing even nineteen. It was all in the way he was dressed and how he held himself. In a word, forced. The gelled back hair, the thick-rimmed glasses that still had the sticker on them, the uniform too carefully assembled, the way he stood so rim-rod straight as though to appear as tall as possible. This man, if he could even be called that yet, was trying far too hard, and that was a big no-no with the patients. People so desperate to impress were very easy to break.

For him, stronger of will but still so wet behind the ears, it had been three months before he succumbed to The Change.

It was always the same. Every new member of staff who came encroaching upon the insane's domain received a judgement from Ciel, a judgement that would eventually be made null and void by the inescapable Change; Ronald Knox, _is he even old enough to drink yet;_ Hannah Anafeloz, _you'd have been safer a prostitute in 1888;_ Aleister Chambers, _just... no;_ and even Agni, _how did you even end up here?_

It had eluded Ciel all these years. The reason behind it. When the staff arrived, they were, dare he say, normal. The cowardly and clumsy Grell Sutcliffe of that first month was something Ciel remembered even now, though he could barely reconcile that memory with the thing that was the Grell of today. The mousy hair became a vibrant if not gaudy red, the round wire-rimmed glasses were traded in for more fashionable spectacles that seemed to emphasise the always-present manic gleam his eyes had now. His slew of apologies were replaced by a psychotic grin. The less said of his favourite methods of treatment the better. How had he become so drastically different?

The Other Ward. Ward V, Sebastian had called it. That was how they'd done it. Was it like some sort of initiation, Ciel wondered, a morbid kind of hazing practise. Introduction To Torture 101 with your favourite instructor, Claude Faustus! Jesus Christ, it was worse than he'd imagined, and he'd imagined a _lot._

How long had Sebastian been here now? Four months, going on five even. It had taken them a while to set their sights on Sebastian, at least compared to the others. The only exception to The Change that Ciel could think of was... Agni. The man who had been so clearly out of his depth on arrival and who had fallen so irrevocably for Soma that The Change just hadn't been able to touch him. They'd given up on him, hadn't they? And so they'd brought in Sebastian.

Sebastian, who Ciel had sunken his claws in to. The only chance he had of getting out of the asylum with a shred of his mind in tact. It was a mild comfort that Sebastian didn't seem to be developing a taste for nailscrews and waterboarding, but then again, Ciel would have said the same of so many of the older staff before they truly became _staff_. He couldn't afford to let his future freedom depend on maybes and faith in others – Sebastian seemed immune to The Change so far, but it was only just beginning, this horrid initiation, and if the first glimpse had spooked Sebastian to the extent that he hadn't even been able to sleep, just how much was the man going to be able to take before giving in?

_Fuck._

Ciel could see it, his chance just slipping through his fingertips as Ward V pressed on Sebastian's mind and possible stability. Every other member of staff had been just as sane as Sebastian was when they first arrived – was that to be the man's fate? To become as deranged and inherently evil as the others?

_I won't let him._

For the first time he could see it. As much as he hated trite sayings, the light at the end of the tunnel was in sight. However, reaching the end of that tunnel depended entirely on having someone walking down it with him. If he was ever going to get out of St. Victoria's, he was going to need Sebastian, and he was going to need him decidedly unhomicidal.

_zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee_

“Ah!” Ciel was pulled unceremoniously from his thoughts by the sound doubling to a painful intensity. It hadn't been so bad that day, just another annoying background noise that he'd been able to block out as he'd lost himself in thinking, but it became just as, if not worse than the previous day in all of a second.

“You seem distracted today. Is something the matter?” Claude asked, looking at him with innocent concern.

No, nothing the matter. Just bleeding from the fucking ears here.

“I'm fine,” Ciel replied in a tone that made it clear he was anything but. Unsurprisingly, Claude ignored the tone and simply nodded, secure that he had Ciel's attention now.

“Oh, I forgot to mention. Ann has been requesting to visit again,” Ciel barely had the chance to react to the statement before Claude shot him down, “Of course, given the self-harm allegations, your visiting rights have been restricted. I had to tell her no.”

Ciel had given up even responding to the self-harm nonsense by this point. It was a losing battle, in every sense. Still, he would have been lying if he said he wasn't a little disappointed. After all, his Aunt was Ciel's only real connection to the world outside St. Victoria's walls. No doubt the visit would have been full of Ann's exuberant detailing of her wedding plans. What flowers she was getting – the reddest amaryllis bouquet, no doubt, her favourite – and what the first dance would be – Angelina would never go for something as stock-standard as a waltz, but Ciel knew little of dancing and even less of the different names. The wedding was in July, only five months away, and it went without saying that Ciel would not be in attendance. Hearing the plans from an excited Ann would have been the only way he'd know anything about the momentous day. Well, not any more. 

Ciel knew what Claude was doing as well as Claude knew himself. It was such a transparent tactic, the boy was damn near insulted. By not letting him see Ann, he was cutting him off, isolating him within these walls even further. And Sebastian – he was part of this tactic too. The staff knew, had seen the... whatever it was between them.

Take away his link to the outside world. Take away his link to even a shred of power within the asylum. Do that, they thought, and Ciel Phantomhive would finally break once and for all.

_Not a goddamn chance._

 

 

۞

 

 

The Wednesday group sessions had originally been introduced by Tanaka as a means of getting the patients to become more familiar and comfortable with one another, to break out of the little groups they'd swarmed in to and refused to venture out of, to interact and just be more social with other people. Well, that was the official reason, anyway. God only knows what the real reason was. Probably just to make them even more uncomfortable than usual. The pretence of socialising and opening up to their fellow patients had been dropped in the record time of two weeks, when Gray had gotten bored of it. Every session thereafter had mainly been made up of thinly veiled insults, baiting or just outright ignoring them in favour of making small talk with Phipps.

Today was one of those days.

“Well, yeah, I mean, _we_ don't need permission so I reckon once we're done here we just take off down town,” he was saying, not even facing the patients, gesturing vaguely with his notepad.

Phipps looked what was probably his version of unsure, “Angela'll still want that form filled out.”  
Gray huffed, “I've got no idea what to put on those any more. I've already killed off the only sister I had left the last time we went for a drink. You got anyone left who could have fallen terminally ill over night?”

“Suppose we could say we need to restock?” Phipps suggested non-committally.

“But then we'd have to go through Faustus!”

And so it went on. The patients sat forgotten in the circle, talking amongst themselves too. Ciel had hoped circle time would be over by the time he got back but when had he ever been that lucky? Gray gestured him over without looking or even pausing his conversation with the other psychiatrist, scuppering whatever chance he'd had of slipping away to his room.

Casting a glance around the circle, Ciel absently noted that Alois was sat between Snake and Jumbo. It was probably the first time since the blond had arrived at the Institute that he hadn't made sure to keep a seat open for Ciel. Soma, on the other hand, was waving him over to the seat beside him, faithfully kept open. He couldn't be bothered thinking about Alois' drama right now. Honestly, the blond was acting like a petty high school girl whose friend had been asked to the dance by their crush. First it was blanking him. What next, starting rumours that he had herpes? He needed to grow up, and fast.

“How'd it go with Dr. Creep?” Soma asked, chipper as always.

“Same old, same old.” Ciel rubbed at his ears, trying to get rid of the residual ringing. He still didn't know what the hell was making that noise in Faustus' office but it was really grating on his nerves, if only because it was taking longer and longer for the lingering echo of it to go away.

“Uh-huh. So, I'm curious, who pissed in his cheerios?” So the tension between Ciel and Alois was clear to even _Soma._ “He's been more of a bitch than usual lately. And he wasn't exactly a charmer to the rest of us in the first place, y'know.”

The only reply he got was a lazy shrug.

As always, Soma refused to leave it at just that.

“Aww, c'mon! If the two of you are having a domestic, you can totally tell me about it, Ciel. I _am_ your honorary big brother after all. And what are big brothers for if not to comfort you in your time of need? I read it in a book so it must be true – you're one of them stoic characters that's going to have a breakdown, character development and all that, so you need someone's shoulder to cry on. Mines all yours!”

This was a speech Soma gave him at least twice a week, usually more if he was unlucky. He still wasn't entirely sure when the sibling roles had been decided, he certainly hadn't had a say in them, and no amount of insistences that he was an only child and _happy_ about it had ever discouraged the self-proclaimed Prince. The responses to the earnest speech were generally a scoff, a roll of the eyes or just the sentiment that Soma should _off_ in the direction of a certain four letter word. Ciel was about to issue two if not all three of those responses, but then paused.

Instead of his favourite word beginning with F, Ciel replied, “Can I really?”

He almost wished he had a camera just so he could capture the gormless look of surprise on Soma's face at that.

“Wha – yeah!” Soma beamed, brighter than a one hundred watt bulb.

Once Gray and Phipps had decided between them that a mutual friend of theirs had been tragically hit by a lorry and probably wouldn't make it through the night, they called the Wednesday group session to a close and the circle dispersed. Soma followed excitedly behind Ciel as he led the way to the older man's room, his imaginary tail wagging fiercely.

Soma's room was, a surprise to anyone who saw it, spotless. Being as childish as he was, it was a common misconception that he was messy to boot. On the contrary, he couldn't stand mess. He was far too important to be wallowing in clutter and filth, after all. Although all the rooms had the same layout – single bed, chest of drawers, small bookcase screwed to the wall, small desk screwed to the floor, a bathroom with the bare minimum – they all varied depending on the inhabitant and the staff's outlook on them. While Ciel, being there so long and the recipient of unwanted favour from the head Psychiatrist, had numerous perks like a door that stayed open around the clock, as many trinkets as he could get his hands on and curtains for the window that, should the mood suddenly take him, he could quite easily hang himself with before anyone found him, Soma's room was essentially empty in comparison. Namely, his bookcase was mostly bare spare a few books and a golden necklace, his window was out of reach and without any means to shut out the light, and his open chest of drawers showed only one other change of clothes. The only member of staff who bothered with Soma was Agni, of course, and the Orderly was not in a position of power, so therefore could not give Soma things that would make the room more lived-in.

It was quite depressing, really, that such a vibrant person would live in such a banal room.

Soma bounded behind Ciel, kicking the door shut and hopping onto his bed, legs crossed and alert. He was obviously fighting away a grin, trying to look as serious as he believed the situation called for.

Ciel took the desk-chair, folding one leg over the other.

“So? What's up?” Soma was succeeding in keeping the smile off his face but the mature effect was ruined by his bouncing up and down where he sat.

“Well, I've been wondering. You and Agni, what exactly is the deal with you two?”

Soma was understandably baffled. Ciel Phantomhive rarely showed an interest in, well, _anything._ Of all the things for him to suddenly be wondering about, other people was so far down on the list it may as well have been added as an afterthought. In comparison, other people's relationships wasn't even on that list at all.

Soma wasn't as dim as people liked to think, though. He hadn't missed how much time his little brother spent with the not-so-new-anymore Orderly. The two of them were always holed up in the boy's room for most of Sebastian's shift, door kept tightly shut for whatever reason. Even when Ciel ventured out of his room, it was his side that Sebastian went to and the two always had their heads bowed together, playing a game or talking about something or other. You'd have to be blind not to see it.

Soma could feel himself getting teary-eyed. His little boy was all grown up.

“Agni and I are together, in a sense. I mean, we can't exactly call it dating since that involves actually going _on_ dates, y'know? The closest we've come to that is when we both happened to be in the garden at the same time. But I love him,” Soma confessed, turning uncharacteristically sober, “And he says he loves me too.”

Ciel listened intently, nodding slightly, “So what was he like when he first showed up here? Can't say I really remember.”

“Same as he is now, really,” Soma chuckled, “Well, he doesn't look as miserable as he did back then. Thanks to little old me, I'm sure.”

Ciel looked oddly pleased to hear that, and Soma couldn't really figure out why.

“So have you two fucked then?” Ciel asked shamelessly, as though he were simply asking the day of the week or if someone had the time. Soma flushed a delightful red at a speed that would have put Meirin to shame. It wasn't so much that it was unusual for Ciel to be blunt, he gave the word a whole new meaning sometimes, but it was downright bizarre for him to care about something like that.

“Geez, Ciel, ask me what you really wanna know, why don't you,” Soma laughed uncomfortably, unable to meet his maybe-not- _so_ -little brother's eye.

“No need to be shy, Soma. We're men. Men talk about these things. I take your reaction as a yes, then?” Dear lord, the boy could be so clinical sometimes. It was like he'd learnt how to talk to people from studying a how-to guide.

“...I, er... yeah, we've slept together... but a gentleman wouldn't ask,” Soma mumbled almost unintelligibly, finding the hole in his duvet cover suddenly very fascinating.

“Right. Thanks.”

Soma reluctantly looked back up when he heard the chair scraping across the floor, Ciel rising to leave. Before the boy reached the door, he jumped from the bed and caught Ciel's wrist, almost causing him to stumble. Purposefully, he held the too thin wrist tight, tight enough to leave an imprint of his hand, no room for Ciel to squirm free. As Soma knew he would, Ciel's face twisted as he tried to wrench his hand free.

Very few people saw a serious Soma. Just like Joker, he did his best to always smile, always joke, always laugh. He was one of the older ones and so it was his duty to try and make things that little bit easier on the younger ones. Even if all he could do was try to lighten the tension that always plagued their walls, he'd do his very best. In fact, it was highly likely that Agni and Ciel were two of the only people to see a genuinely serious Soma. They would both attest that it was a very disconcerting thing to see.

Voice as stern as an old professor, Soma looked Ciel dead in the eye and asked, “Is Sebastian trying to pressure you in to something?”

The only thing that kept Ciel from bursting out laughing was the intensity of the raw concern for him on Soma's face. He knew he wasn't the most compassionate of people, but even he couldn't bring himself to laugh in the face of such worry, especially if that worry was for his sake.

“Ciel, you do _not_ have to do anything you don't want to do, okay? And Sebastian is trying to make you, well, you just come to me, alright? If he tries anything on with you-”

“What'll you do, Soma?” Ciel gave a small grin.

Grip in Ciel's wrist slackening, Soma puffed up his chest, beating on his imaginary muscles with his free hand and declaring, “I could take Sebastian on!” He deflated just as quickly, grimacing, “W-Well, with a chair or something. I mean, he's a pretty big guy.”

Ciel slipped his wrist free, giving a rare genuine laugh and squeezing his friend's arm. It was probably the first time Ciel had willingly touched Soma, and it only made Soma worry all the more.

“Don't worry. I know what I'm doing.”

The words had been intended to comfort. They only tightened the knot twisting in the pit of Soma's stomach as he watched Ciel walk leave the room.

 

 

۞


	18. Chapter 18

۞

 

**Chapter Eighteen**

 

۞

 

 

The television had been switched off. Alois Trancy was Alois Trancy once more. The merciful barricade that the Zydrate had granted him had been lifted, leaving no divide between the reality of his situation and himself.

As the days passed, his body grew more and more used to the frequent dosages of the oblivion drug. He could feel as sensations he hadn't remotely missed returned to him. It had begun with a tingling in his toes and fingertips, barely there but noticeable nonetheless. Then the odd haze in his head began to dissipate. With each day, his sight grew clearer. With each day, his heart grew heavier. And then his body abandoned all pretence of gradualism. Everything he'd been given a brief reprieve from was just dumped upon him.

Depression. It was a word that was thrown around a lot these days. So often that it had begun to lose all meaning. People having so much as a troublesome day that had worn on their nerves would think they could legitimately claim to be depressed, but they truly had no idea. Only someone who had honestly felt it could understand – the suffocation that each breath you made yourself take induced, the incomprehensible resentment towards the people you loved simply for them daring to make you love them at all, the inescapable dread of that moment the first ray of sun touched your skin yet worsened by the fear of when that sun would inevitably abandon you once again. Your bed became your worst enemy yet your best friend at the same time. It wrapped you in the warmest of embraces, but there was always loneliness in it because that warmth was only your own, and the blankets became restraints. Leaving that bed, the only source of warmth, became such an unwelcoming prospect. When the bed was so comfortable and safe, what allure could the waking world possibly hold? But then you were trapped, ensnared by the sheets that hugged you so tightly, as the days passed on without you.

Despair. Alois had never been one for education, English least of all, nothing but boredom held in those leather-bound books. He much preferred pictures, so never really bothered to learn much of words. As such, the definitions often got mixed up in his head. When he was younger, he'd always thought the words depression and despair meant more or less the same thing. At eighteen years old, he now knew much better. Depression came before despair, because to be depressed, one must still hold hope. They may not even know they still have that single shred of optimism within them, but it was that four letter word that divided depression and despair. Whatever sliver of H-O-P-E he'd still kept safely buried within his heart had, at some point in those two weeks, eroded away to nothing. The shift from depression to despair was so stark, even Alois was surprised by it. How he longed for the tumultuous depression. Anything over the sheer _heaviness_ of despair.

Anger. Alois had a reputation within the Institute, he was well aware, for his hair-trigger temper. One moment, a bright smile. The next, a twisted snarl. He was feared for his mood swings but no-one feared them more than himself. Not because of the consequences others would concoct, no, but simply for the guilt that would follow any outburst. He punished himself harsher than anyone else possibly could. Even knowing that, he would feel that rising heat in his chest and be powerless to stop it bursting free. As his body overcame the Zydrate, that anger was stronger than both the depression and the despair. Anger at the world and everyone in it for leaving him with a life so dreadful, for having beautiful lives of their own that they would never fully appreciate, for leaving him in a place where no-one would see how desperately he needed help.

More than anything, and the thing he feared more than any anger, was the jealousy. The Zydrate, though still thrumming though his veins with its luminous blue glow, was no more than a superficial feature now. As useful as his hair or clothes, and with even less effect. Now he saw everything through a film of green, until green was all he could see.

Ciel had told him about his increased sessions with Claude as just another fact, nothing deep, nothing personal. Yet every time Alois saw his best friend being led off the ward, it felt like a betrayal. Like Ciel was doing something dirty, withholding secrets that Alois could never be a part of, and it cut him deeper than any knife.

There was nothing new in the way Claude looked at Ciel. It was the same way Claude had always looked at Ciel, and Alois should know. After all, he'd always been watching Claude too. The foreign emotion smouldering in those vivid amber eyes, barely masked adoration that nobody else seemed to notice but that Alois couldn't miss. There was nothing new in that look yet he couldn't remember ever being burned so deeply by the fact that it still wasn't directed at him.

And possibly the worst betrayal of all was that Ciel barely deigned to look at him any more. The rare times they were in the leisure room together, their eyes didn't meet, didn't so much as flicker in the other's direction. His fair-weather friend Logic came to visit then – _he's pale, Alois. He's losing weight, Alois. This isn't about ignoring you, there's something wrong with him –_ but jealousy had always been a constant companion, and Alois would always choose those who were loyal to him over those who came and went as they pleased.

_Oh,_ his mind whispered to Alois nastily,  _that's how it is, huh? He got what he wanted. He's got Claude all to himself now and he doesn't need you any more. He doesn't_ want  _you any more._

That was all Alois had ever been his entire life. A means to an end.

For Luka, who he had loved unreservedly, he had been a shield. Someone to hide behind and be protected by when all Alois wanted was to be protected too.

For That Man, who had forever stained his hands without a chance at absolution, he had been a convenient outlet for the sickest of his perversions.

For Claude, who he had given everything that was left of himself to with the utmost faith and devotion, he was just a stop on the road to the real prize.

For Ciel, who he had opened himself to when he had thought he was beyond forming even the most shallow of relationships, he was a necessary stepping stone to reach his desired destination.

Use.

_Use._

_USE!_

This was usually the part where his throat would tighten and his eyes would begin to burn. He waited for it, expected it, _needed_ it, but no tears would come.

And so his frustration continued to grow like the most stubborn of weeds. With no other outlet, now beyond even crying, Alois gave himself over to the anger. The journal, once treasured, was the first to bear the brunt. Gripping the leather book so hard his nails left little crescent shapes on the surface, he drew his arm back and launched it against the far wall. It burst on impact like a balloon, the spine snapping, sheets of paper flurrying in the air. There was no satisfaction as it thumped to the floor, so he continued. The chair was flung without a hint of aim, crashing into the bookcase and sending the sparse few objects upon it crashing to the ground. They became his next victims, scooped from the floor and launched in whatever direction he felt like. With each fractured and broken item lying upon his carpet, Alois waited for the anger to begin to seep away, but it continued to boil within him until he feared he'd burn from the inside out. He began to launch kicks at his chest of drawers, splintering the wood, but it was only his foot that was becoming damaged, the skin splitting with each impact and leaving smudges of blood wherever he stepped.

_They have each other,_ the voice snickered, each poisonous word another straw on the camel's back,  _and you have no-one. You never did and you never will._

So he screamed, screamed as quietly as he could because even in his frenzy he knew he couldn't be discovered like this, screamed to drown out the spiteful little voice in his head. And then the tears finally came, spilling down his cheeks shamelessly, because that hateful little voice in his head was beginning to sound more and more familiar.

 

 

۞

 

 

As those two weeks passed, Sebastian was intercepted more and more often by Claude. Whether it was when he was eating breakfast with Agni, waiting in the hall for the bathroom to finally be free or even as he was just about to swipe his keycard on the ward's panel, Claude had the uncanny ability to suddenly appear. He didn't walk towards Sebastian from down the corridor or seem to wait for him anywhere, he just appeared at his side like he'd been there all along.

Somehow Claude Faustus had managed to take his eeriness up to eleven. Sebastian couldn't help but be morbidly impressed.

As those two weeks crawled by, Sebastian found he was spending more time on Ward V than he was on the main ward. None of the others were asked to cover his shift and his absence didn't really have much of an impact on the way the day went. He found himself more chilled by that realisation than he should have been – his not being there made no difference in the grand scheme of things. What if one of those days he was permanently shifted to Ward V?

As those two weeks dragged him along in their wake, he became Claude's unwilling constant companion. More often than not, it was only him and Claude with the patients, Doctor running the busy Infirmary. If he had disliked the man before, he utterly loathed him now. That face, blank as a slate, seemed to just invite his fist, and he wondered why on Earth he continued to deny that generous invitation. His monotone voice was becoming even more maddening than the patient's screams, Sebastian certainly knew which of the two he favoured. If there was one small mercy in the man's company it was that Claude clearly wasn't any more happy about it than he was, keeping a sizeable distance between them at all times and only meeting his eyes when he was giving orders.

Ah, the orders.

Sebastian had always been a respecting person, or so he liked to think. If someone was his superior, they were his superior for a reason and that reason alone demanded his respect. He was submissive to them, by role and by wages. If he was given an order by his superior he would follow it to the letter in order to close the gap of superiority and become the one who was respected. So when Claude, the head Psychiatrist of St. Victoria's Institution, gave him an order, by his usual creed, he really should have followed it.

“Just press the tip against the sole of its foot.”

Unfortunately, there was not a shred of respect between Sebastian and Claude. Claude had not earned it, and therefore he had not earned Sebastian in the least. Oh, and the moral implications too, of course.

“No,” Sebastian stated, his tone as resolute as it had been every day for those past two weeks.

That day, it was not only Claude in Ward V with him. He had intercepted Sebastian just as he was about to slip into the main ward, despite Sebastian having skipped both his morning bathroom routine and breakfast in order to avoid him. Claude had been flanked by the silent triplets, Cantebury, Timber and Thompson, for once not bustling around in the Infirmary. Their purpose in joining Claude and Sebastian quickly became clear.

Cantebury had a hand fisted in the short black hair of Patient V5, the other hand pressed firmly against the small of his back to keep him flat against the ground. The Patient wasn't taking such restraint quietly, thrashing around wildly. If it had just been Cantebury, V5 probably would have overpowered him easily, but the Aide had back-up. Timber was quick to grab V5's flailing wrists and grip them together in one hand, using the weight of his body to keep V5's lower half as pinned to the floor as the top half. V5 wailed pitifully, a high keening sound that only seemed to grow in volume the longer the day went on. The patient never stopped struggling, rotten bare feet scurrying against the floor until Claude muttered for Thompson to grab hold of the left one. He did without question, the woefully thin ankle easily enveloped in the man's hand and extended towards Sebastian like some sick sort of gift.

Claude stood off to the side. Barely audible over the cacophony of patients was bubbling water, some sort of portable heater with a slowly boiling pan of water on top of its grill standing beside him. As the triplets struggled with the increasingly agitated V5, Claude calmly watched the water boil, a thin iron rod held just over the surface. As the bubbles grew, he descended the rod into the water.

Sebastian had an idea what was going to happen, confirmed when Claude finally withdrew the now red-tipped rod and extended the handle towards him.

“It needn't be terribly hard. Just push the tip against the sole of its foot. You don't even have to break the skin if you don't feel like it,” Claude offered, sounding as though he was making great accommodations for Sebastian's obvious revulsion.

Once more, Sebastian looked Claude dead in the eye and said, “No.”

The triplets and Patient V5 continued to wrestle on the ground, the panicked cries growing loud enough that the other patients were becoming distressed just from hearing it. Soon enough, others joined in, a crazed choir. However, even as the sound became so jarring that Sebastian's head began to split, Claude paid them no heed. He looked at no-one but Sebastian, such intense attention more disturbing than anything around him.

“If your refusal is down to moral issues then be reassured, everything that takes place within this room falls entirely upon me. I take all responsibility for these patients and what is done to them, Sebastian,” Claude promised, extending the handle of the rod once again, “You're only following orders.”

The words were intended to encourage, but every syllable that fell past those lips only pushed the rod further and further from Sebastian's hands.

Following orders? Orders from his superior, his boss, and Sebastian really should have just taken the rod and thrust it against that patient's already worn foot. His self-preservation instinct was riling up – _do it, do it or it could be you in this cage next time, this isn't a man who likes being told no_ – but it was smothered by his pride. Pride had always been a large part of Sebastian, who had so much to be proud of, and with every word from Claude, that pride swelled up a little more.

He was better than this. He was better than _him._ Sebastian Michaelis did not take orders from a piss-ant like Faustus. He was no coward and he would not inflict torture on an innocent person only hide behind someone else, behind the excuse of _I was just doing what I was told!_ Oh no, if he wanted to then Sebastian would have grabbed that searing hot rod and pressed it against V5's foot until the skin bubbled and blisters burst from the flesh.

“No,” Sebastian announced yet again, his gaze unwavering as he looked into those sinister yellow eyes.

Because he didn't want to. It was not compassion he felt for the experimental patients. Try as he might, he felt nothing but repulsion when he looked upon their twisted and emaciated forms, devoid of all intelligence and civilised development.

There was one reason and one reason alone that he did not take up the rod; Sebastian Michaelis would not allow himself to become like them.

 

 

۞

 

 

There were sixty-seven tiles on the ceiling of Claude's office. This wasn't a remotely interesting fact, nor did knowing it ever prove useful in life, but it was a fact that Ciel knew nonetheless. Out of those sixty-seven tiles, five were cracked and two were missing. Those two gaps stood out, almost obscenely. Maybe it was just because it was Claude's office and something like that, a glaring imperfection, was so unusual.

The clock on the far wall ticked and tocked, the minute hand finally pushing away from IV. Twenty past three in the afternoon, twenty minutes since Ciel had been led to Claude's office for his usual session, and the Doctor had yet to show face.

Ciel rearranged himself on the chair, forcing himself not to watch the clock. From sheer boredom, he ended up counting the tiles on the ceiling once more. By the time he'd reached the number sixty-seven again, the minute hand had reached V.

_Where the hell is he?_

Annoyance was etched into every fine line on Ciel's face. As if the past fortnight hadn't been enduring enough, he'd reached a new low. Stood up by Claude Faustus. Fetch the gun, stat.

As much as he loathed these sessions, there was something even more disconcerting about Claude not even showing up. It was starting to seem like Ciel lived every day in a constant state of unease, probably not a very healthy thing.

_zzzzzzzzzzeeeeeeeeeeee_

_Do not react,_ Ciel repeated for the umpteenth time in those twenty-five or so minutes that he'd been in the office. Perhaps the irritation had less to do with being seemingly forgotten by Faustus and more to do with the noise, now so familiar that it followed him everywhere. Beyond the walls of the Psychiatrist's office, that damnable sound rattled within his skull like a bad memory, no peace from it even in the sanctuary of his own bedroom. 

When was the last time he'd slept? Actually  _slept_ the whole night through. No tossing, no turning, no rubbing violently at his ears to try and get rid of the high-pitched whistling. Too long ago, that was when. He'd reached that state of exhaustion where he was beyond even feeling tired – limbs no longer heavy but just kind of there, eye perpetually dry no matter how often he blinked, body endlessly restless and stubbornly fighting his desire to sleep when he lay down in bed. 

It was all because of that fucking noise.

It was Claude's doing, he knew. Some sort of bizarre 'treatment', no doubt about it. At first Ciel had been sure Claude was wearing earplugs. It was the only real explanation he could find for why the man could sit there with his poker face in place while Ciel could barely fight the wince from his own. He wasn't hearing the noise. If he had been, there was no way he couldn't have reacted.

But, no. Ciel had looked as closely as he could without risking suspicion and there was nothing obstructing Claude's ears. He was hearing the noise just as much as Ciel was. So why didn't he react like Ciel did? Could Ciel simply not handle it as well as him, was Ciel  _weaker_ than him?

Ciel scowled at no-one, managing to be offended by his own thoughts. No, no, that wasn't it. If nothing else, the boy understood the power a person could have simply with the knowledge that they were in control. It wasn't that Ciel was weak in comparison to the Doctor, he just didn't have the same control he had.

Regardless, understanding it didn't help a single thing. The noise was still there –  _zzzzzzzzzzeeeeeeeeeeee –_ buzzing around in his head. Thoughts were difficult to string together whenever that noise was piercing his ears and his mantra of  _don't react_ got quieter and quieter as the irritation mutated into something much more. Later on, he'd look back and wonder if it had just been his in his mind after all, but sitting in that chair and unconsciously burrowing his head against the cushion to try and drown it out, the noise seemed to grow and grow. What had started out as a single buzzing bee became an angry swarm spilling forth from the hive. 

It was no longer irritating. It was  _painful_ .

And after two weeks of his ears being pierced and his sleep being stolen, all by a single sound that only he could hear, Ciel snapped.

He did not make the conscious decision to move. His body just shifted, suddenly standing up without Ciel even realising he'd thought about it. Or maybe he wasn't thinking about it at all since when his hands began yanking out the small wooden drawers from Claude's desk, it came as a surprise. He turned the drawers upside down until the contents spilled out onto the floor. He was searching, he didn't know what for but he did know that whatever it was, it was making that noise. It wasn't in the drawers. His feet stalked across the carpet then, attacking the filing cabinets frenziedly. Soon, files of all different kinds were streaked across the floor, the papers fluttering about. That would have been the opportune moment to seize his own file and finally see what lies were written inside, and it spoke volumes about just how out of it Ciel was that the thought didn't even cross his mind, the file bearing his name thrown aside just as quickly as all the others in favour of burrowing deeper within the cabinet. When all the drawers, cabinets, the cupboard and even the fridge had been ransacked with no sign of... whatever it was, Ciel's breathing was ragged and his hands were shaking.

Claude had always been sneaky, that was a fact Ciel knew well, so of course he wasn't going to hide the thing in such obvious places. If it were him, Ciel wondered, where would he put it?

Ciel stumbled forward and dropped to his knees beside Claude's high-backed chair. The faux leather of the chair was held to the base by those little brass knobs, so Ciel dug beneath them to get his nails at the seam. Just a little tear was all he needed, a tiny hole for him to get entry through, and he worked his fingers at the fabric until his nails found purchase. Once they did, he gave a hard tug and the fabric of the chair tore like paper. It was while he was shredding away at the foam of Claude's seat that there was a click behind him.

He froze instantly, the strange hysteria that had captured him fleeing at the sound of the door being shut. Ciel was still shaken, but the single mindedness that the hysteria had given him was now gone, giving him the freedom to actually  _think._ And with that return of thought came the realisation of how deeply he'd fucked up.

Claude stood in front of the office door, glancing carefully around his decimated office. The ransacked drawers, the mess of papers and stationary, his coats strewn all around the cupboard, and Ciel on his knees, bloodied fingers still holding fistfuls of the stuffing of his chair. Slowly, as though approaching a wild and dangerous animal, Claude crossed the room. He paid no need to the fact that he was stepping all over his own belongings, eyes focused only on the panting boy. Once at Ciel's side, Claude dropped into a kneel, now on the same level.

“What are you doing, Ciel?” His voice was the same calm murmur it always was, no trace of anger hidden beneath it, not so much as a flicker of discontent across his face.

Ciel couldn't answer. The only answer he had would surely be used against him, didn't even make sense to himself.

After a drawn out silence, Claude continued, “I promise, I won't be mad. Just tell me what happened. If you're honest, you won't even get in trouble, alright?” The words were not so much monotonous as they were soothing, but they did nothing to ease Ciel's spiking anxiety.

Still, Ciel remained mute, clammy hands resting on top of the ruined chair, staring into the Doctor's face like a deer caught in headlights.

The indifference upon Claude's face slipped away, a look of deep disappointment latching on to his features as he said with a deeply regretful tone, “You've put the both of us in a difficult situation. Fine. If you won't tell me what made you do this then I've no choice but to have you sent to Room 1800.” With that, he rose from his crouch, making his way back over to the door.

Panic blinded Ciel. The noise was still piercing his ears, his head feeling like it would split apart at any moment, and now all he could see was mirrors all around him, showing him things he didn't want to,  _couldn't_ let himself see. 

For the second time that day, Ciel's body moved without him giving it permission to. He stumbled to his feet. Frantically, he reached out and latched on to one of Claude's arms, almost pulling the man over with the force of dragging him back from the door. Quicker than his mind could prevent, he found himself confessing, “That noise, I was just trying to make it stop!” Oh, he shouldn't have said that. No, no, no. Showing weakness, showing fear, reacting to something he should have been able to ignore.

Claude barely seemed to hear the words, however. His eyes were fixed on the clammy and slightly bloodied hand grasping his arm, watching it as though there was nothing more interesting in the world.

Sense was ebbing back to Ciel, composure in sight but just slightly beyond his grasp. Hastily, he withdrew his hand, so quickly it was like Claude's arm had burned him. He took a step back too, just to be safe.

“...What noise?” Claude asked indulgently, giving a slight shake of the head before looking back up to Ciel's face.

He wanted to laugh.  _What noise?_ Oh, real fucking subtle. Playing ignorant, now. But now, he couldn't laugh, couldn't scoff or even sneer, not when the threat of The Room was hanging once more over his head. There was nothing funny about that.

“The... high-pitched whistling...”

“Ciel, there's no noise,” Claude replied softly, in the same tone Rachel had used to tell him there was no monster beneath his bed or hiding within his closet.

There was nothing Ciel could say to that. He could have been stubborn, insisted there really  _was_ a noise, a noise that was drilling into his skull as the two stood right there, but Claude had always been stubborn too. You had to pick your fights, and with The Room a possibility of the near future, that was not a fight for him to pursue. 

Claude took a small step forward, closing the tiny bit of space Ciel had put between them, his face twisting into a look of what may have been concern on anyone else but that Ciel didn't want to identify on him. There was none of the careful wariness of before when he extended a hand and cupped Ciel's cheek. There was only the barest brushing of skin, palm on cheek, his hand hovering more than actually touching, but it was enough to get Ciel's hackles rising. Yet Ciel did not wrench away, found himself rendered immobile by the weight of the threat between them.

Voice impossibly soft, Claude said, “If you apologise for what you've done, I see no need to punish you. It can be our little secret.”

He wanted to be sick. He hadn't slept in what felt like forever, the past fortnight more like one endless day. The longer the insomnia went on, the flimsier his defences became, the slower his mind worked. His head felt far too heavy for his neck, like it would just snap off at any moment. That goddamn noise was still in the air around him, within him, merciless. And now, if he didn't prostrate himself before the Doctor and offer an  _apology,_ he would be thrown away into The Room with nothing but his own reflection for company. 

Claude's thumb began to trace circles upon his cheek in what was probably supposed to be a soothing gesture but that only made the bile rise in Ciel's throat. With every brush of the man's skin upon him, The Room became a more appealing prospect than having to submit.

_I can't. Not again. I promised I'd never go in there again. I've managed all these years, I_ can't  _let this happen now._

Claude waited patiently as Ciel fought a vicious battle with himself and his pride, gently caressing the boy's face. His patience paid off, as it always did, as Ciel's face crumpled, curled into a snarl, and he spat, not sounding it at all, “I'm sorry.”

 

 

۞

 

 

It was bad moods all around in St. Victoria's that day. Though Ciel hadn't been in sight when Sebastian had finally been able to get to the main ward, he'd decided to wait in the boy's room regardless. He found himself in no mood to entertain any of the other patients. The sickeningly thick smell of burnt flesh had settled upon him, lingering within his clothes and hair, following him like a shadow. The animalistic wailing of V5 as Claude had taken it upon himself to scold the bottoms of his feet, for no apparent reason other than cruelty, may as well have been broadcast from a speaker in the bedroom, the sound still as clear in Sebastian's ears as it had been standing only feet away. Truth be told, Sebastian had been _this_ close to just knocking the black-haired shell of a man out cold, just to get him to shut up.

If Sebastian was in a bad mood, Ciel was the living embodiment of lividity as he stormed into his room and slammed the door shut behind him. Before the older man could get so much as a word of greeting out, Ciel had rounded on him, positively seething.

Automatically, Sebastian racked his brain to try and remember if he'd done anything to warrant such a strong negative reaction. However, as Ciel gestured to his chest of drawers with a quivering hand, he felt that this anger was not for him.

“Your fingers,” Sebastian winced at the sight of the raw skin and mangled nails, feeling his own mood suddenly deepen, “Did Faustus do that?”

“Put it against the door,” was the only answer Sebastian received, the battered hand again gesturing to the chest of drawers.

Sebastian grimaced, “No can do. That'd be a fire hazard, y'know.” It had been intended to at least lighten the tension, just a little quip, but as he said it, all the anger just fell away from Ciel. It was... oddly disturbing. He couldn't explain why, even to himself, but to see the bluster just flee the boy left him looking so very small and exhausted. As though a strong breeze could snap him in two.

Sebastian leaned forward in the chair, not really noticing as his hands tightened into fists. Two images were battling for dominance in his mind's eye; the sight before him, a weary and despondent Ciel with red-stained fingers, and then the imagine from that afternoon, Claude Faustus thrusting a rod of searing heat against another human being's flesh without so much as a flinch, not even a blink.

“What happened with Faustus, Ciel?” Sebastian asked, his voice eerily calm. That in itself garnered a rather odd reaction, as Ciel suddenly looked up from the floor with his nose wrinkled, uncomfortable. He stared at Sebastian for a few moments before shaking his head, retreating to his bed.

“Haven't slept in ages. Feel sick,” was the mumbled response, the boy burying his face in his pillow.

“So sleep.”

“Can't. Not now.”

“Why?”

Ciel pulled himself upright with effort, eye glazed over. “Remember I mentioned that noise a while back? Well... I _may_ have made a bit of a mess of Faustus' office trying to find what was making it.”

Sebastian cocked a brow.

“A _bit_ of a mess?”

The boy gave a lazy shrug. “Fine, so I trashed the place. Same difference. Claude caught me, though, and now I'm at risk of being put in The Room.” The sudden flare of panic Sebastian felt surge up at the words was clearly shared if the uneasy expression on Ciel's face was anything to go by. “And if I don't get some sleep, like, yesterday, I'm... fucked,” Any trace of being articulate was replaced by the exhaustion, “But there's no way I'm going to be able to sleep if there's a chance they're going to get me while I'm unconscious, so just put the drawers against the door, okay?”

“Ciel-”

“Ugh, _please!”_ Ciel snapped, running a hand through his hair restlessly. In fact, everything about his demeanour was restless. Eye darting all over the room, hands quaking, legs unable to keep still. He truly did look on his last legs.

Sighing, Sebastian got up and did as Ciel had asked. There was just something about Ciel Phantomhive saying please that let you know a situation had gotten well out of hand. Just like he'd been doing every night in his own bedroom, Sebastian gripped the edges of the chest of drawers and pushed it across the room until it lay in front of the door.

“Do you want me to go?” he asked as Ciel settled beneath the sheets.

Just a mop of slate coloured peeking over the top of the quilt, Ciel paused, then answered, “No. I'd prefer it if you stayed.”

And so Sebastian reclaimed his spot on the deskchair. For the first time in over two weeks, Ciel slept.

 

 

۞


	19. Chapter 19

۞

 

**Chapter Nineteen**

 

۞

 

 

A light sheen of sweat glistening on his skin, Claude stood up straight and took in a job well done. Every sheet of paper that had been discarded was now returned to its proper file, all the drawers that had been yanked out and upturned now back in place, a new leather chair to replace the old savaged one. Single-handedly, he had returned his decimated office to its usual immaculate state, everyone else none the wiser.

It had taken some work to avoid Angela coming across the mess, as inclined as she was to dropping in uninvited with yet more work that he wasn't contracted to do, though he had decided on the Dagger boy as Ciel's scapegoat anyway. However, he'd managed it, luckily for Dagger, and it really was just between he and Ciel.

There was an indescribable thrill at the very thought. Nothing bound two people together closer than a secret, and this secret was entirely theirs. _Theirs._ There were few things he could refer to as that just yet, so he thought it again, again, again. The evidence gone, a memory lay between he and Ciel, a shared moment in time where the boy had been completely at his mercy and Claude had granted him that mercy.

Still, he wondered as he settled into the plush new chair to catch his breath, perhaps he had taken it a little too far. The frantic look on Ciel's face had been both exhilarating but also pitiful, and pity was not something he wanted for them. It was the pride he craved, which the boy had felt the need to smother down – it hadn't been necessary. One could apologize without sacrificing the self-worth within them. Claude wondered whether it was simply because Ciel was apologizing to _him_ that he had felt the need to abandon his dignity, and the thought stung a little. But at the same time... that thrill once more.

It was _him_ who had broken through the icy veneer Ciel wore, no-one else. It was him alone that had seen the spark of fear in that single blue eye, and that fear had been caused by his words. It had taken longer than he had expected, yes, but he had dragged forth a response from the boy of stone.

Although it was something of nonsensical romance stories, Claude imagined that he could still feel a tingle of the warmth upon his palm from where his hand had touched Ciel's cheek. How many, he thought, could claim to have felt that warmth? The skin wasn't as smooth and soft as he had imagined so many times, but the slight bumps of adolescent spots and the beginnings of roughness that may have been stubble only served to thrill him more; this touch was not fantasy. This touch was _real._

It was enough, Claude decided. He had gotten the reaction he had been yearning for. Perhaps more of a reaction than he had anticipated even. Shifting forward in the chair, Claude pulled out the middle drawer of his desk, one of the several that had not been excluded from Ciel's rampage. The boy had been close, a little too close. It was not the drawer he should have been searching, however, but the roof of the desk inside it. With a good, hard yank, Claude pulled free the small black rectangle.

It had taken a while to accustom himself to the white noise. It was truly a horrible sound – loud enough that it cancelled out thoughts, robbed you of your sleep, stripped you of your appetite, then followed you closer than your shadow. It was a favourite technique of his, subtle enough that sometimes the patients didn't even realise they were undergoing treatment, but it really did wear on him too. Still, he was trained for these things, had mastered the art of not reacting in a way Ciel could only dream of.

But it had served his purpose now, so Claude pocketed the nasty little device, wondering just what his next session with the boy would hold.

 

 

۞

 

 

Claude too busy cleaning up the remnants of Ciel's outburst, Sebastian was left alone on Ward V for the first time since the sick initiation had begun. It was nothing if not a relief. The man's company was even more smothering than the smells or screams. No idea what he was supposed to be doing anyway, Sebastian found himself sitting on the ground with his back against the door, eyes resting anywhere but on the patients. If only to phase out the screams, he let his mind wander.

As it was wont to do these days, it wandered in the direction of Ciel Phantomhive.

Sebastian was worried, not that he was about to let the recipient of that worry know. Ciel had seemed better in himself after having gotten some sleep but the sleep itself had been enough cause for concern. Restless didn't begin to cover it – writhing as though deeply pained, his face contorted in discomfort, thrashing out of the sheets as though entrapped by them. It was a sleep plagued by something Sebastian couldn't even witness, but his imagination was more than happy to conjure up nightmares. More than that, however, was the fact that Sebastian had even been present to see him sleep.

Trust? A shred of the trust Sebastian had given over to Ciel, finally returned. It was true that there were simply some things two people couldn't go through without coming out the other end trusting one another, and surely staging a rescue mission in an insane asylum had to qualify. Though he wasn't about to start jumping to conclusions. Yes, in a normal situation – not that anything about that situation was normal – the people involved would have to trust each other, or at least _come_ to trust each other in the process.

Well, Sebastian was more than aware at that point that Ciel was not most people, and the normal rules did not apply to them. For whatever reasons, the boy was jaded, too jaded to be handing out trust willy-nilly.

It was not only the fact that Ciel had asked Sebastian to stay while he had slept that had the man thinking.

Lately, Ciel had been... well, _clingy._ It was hard to say really, since that was one word that he had never thought could apply to the generally aloof and stand-offish boy, but there it was. Sebastian had dealt with clingy people before. In fact, he seemed to attract nothing but. Calling every other hour, demanding to know where he had been and who he had been with, constantly seeking some sort of validation, be it in appearance or attraction. It was all very exhausting and he made a rule to get the hell out of dodge as soon as _why didn't you text me back_ became the most common conversation topic. Ciel was not clingy in the way past lovers and even the more needy friends had been, and by normal people's standards, his behaviour wouldn't be considered clingy at all. But this was _Ciel,_ and his behaviour had never fit into the category of normal.

It was little things.

Before that day, it had been anyone's guess what mood Ciel would be in and that always had a direct impact on Sebastian's day. If the boy was in his version of a good mood – the normal people equivalent of annoyed and a little pissy – then Sebastian would probably spend his shift in Ciel's room, talking about whatever came to mind, exchanging barbed banter and getting his arse handed to him in any game they played. If Ciel had been in a bad mood – imagine the love child of Ash and Angela. Then shoot him in the foot. You're half-way there – then Sebastian wouldn't get through the door before being assaulted by the palpable tension. Sometimes he'd stay and try to diffuse it, most of the time he could tell he really wasn't wanted and beat a hasty retreat without having to be told. That was their pattern, not planned but one that had fallen in to place at some point, and it worked for them, as far as he could see. Not any more, though. Now, whether rain or shine, Ciel didn't so much request as he did demand that Sebastian stay in his company.

It wasn't just that, however. Outside of his bedroom, it was the same, if not worse. Sebastian always made a point of making his rounds with the other patients too, if only to show whatever other member of staff was working with him that not _all_ his time was spent with Ciel. That was becoming increasingly difficult by Ciel making those rounds _with_ him. Kind of defeating the object there. It wasn't that he was even more social with the other patients, he just tagged along and waited for Sebastian to be done.

It was getting a little weird.

Now that he thought about it, had it begun only after the whole trashing Claude's office incident? Or had it been sooner, like after Sebastian had told him about Ward V? He hadn't missed it, the inscrutable look that had crept across the boy's face, the wariness that had descended upon them that had never really been there before, at least not so heavy.

There was a conclusion that he could jump to – Ciel was worried about him, in the exact same way that Sebastian was worrying over Ciel – and he leapt to it. Unfortunately, Ward V was not a place for serious contemplation, the inhabitants not even recognising the word 'think' any more, and Sebastian was not so much pulled as he was yanked from his thoughts by the relentless squealing of Patient V9.

All the sounds in that room were horrible but Peter was managing to take it up to the next level. That noise was not human. Never mind a pig to slaughter, it was the sound of a pig _being_ slaughtered. Squealing at such a pitch it was a wonder his throat didn't just tear like tissue paper, the sound was setting Sebastian on edge more and more. It wasn't the same nervousness or even anxiety that he usually felt on the ward. It was... annoyance. The noise grated at his nerves and if it would have done any good, he'd have demanded that V9 _shut up._

Sebastian pushed off the wall and rose to his feet, stepping across the scuffed and worn linoleum. Despite not being a particularly large room, Ward V managed to make every step feel like a mile, the small distance to V9's enclosure like running a marathon. Sebastian was learning to keep directly in the centre of the walkway between the cages now, the patients having the nasty habit of waiting for the worst moment then launching themselves against their walls.

Outside of V9's – _no,_ Peter's enclosure, Sebastian dropped into a crouch. Through the somewhat distorted plastic, he could see Peter sprawled on his stomach. He was still wearing the old patient's garb that he had worn upstairs; too large sweatshirt, white drawstring pants, the most impersonal clothing imaginable. Expect now they were torn in places, crusted with things that made Sebastian's skin itch for a shower, dirtied beyond any washing machine's ability. The boy's skin wasn't any better, possibly even filthier than his clothes. His neck was twisted at an unhealthy angle, his blood-encrusted cheek pressed against the uneven floor, facing away from Sebastian. At regular intervals, almost like clockwork, the boy would open his cracked lips and let out a long, keening cry. He looked so much smaller than Sebastian remembered, and he had never been especially big to begin with.

Wetting his own dry lips, Sebastian crept a bit closer to the plastic and softly said, “Peter?”

There was nothing. Not a glance in his direction, not a tensing of the shoulders, not even the slightest waver in the unrelenting whine. There was no recognition in the boy that his name had been called, nor that a noise had even been made at all.

Again, a little louder now, Sebastian tried, “Peter.”

Anything. Anything would do. A twitch, a shiver, a growl, even the smallest silence from that crying. Just something to show that he had heard, that he had understood at least a fraction. That even if the boy no longer recognised the name as belonging to him, it still held _something,_ a shred of familiarity that would give him pause.

“ _Peter!”_

Nothing. There was nothing of Peter left in V9 at all.

 

 

۞

 

 

“Tell me about Vincent.”

It was times like these that Ciel missed his other eye. The exasperated eye rolling really lost its effect when it was on its own.

“We've talked about him a lot. I have nothing new to say,” he instead replied, guarded. It was ten minutes into their session and he couldn't relax. Well, as much as he ever relaxed in Faustus' presence, that was. The room was immaculate once more, all evidence of Ciel's little outburst completely gone. He'd expected that, though. What was more unnerving was the calm silence. The noise was conspicuous in its absence, as though Ciel had gotten used to there being three people in the room and now there was only two.

So it hadn't been just in his head. It was equal parts a relief and a concern. On the bright side, he wasn't any crazier than usual, office-smashing aside. On the other hand, now that Claude had abandoned the noise to get to him, there was no doubt something new up the man's sleeves.

“You lied those times. I want you to tell me the truth now.”  
No prizes for guessing what exactly it _was_ up Claude's sleeves. The man was so determined for him to have Daddy issues, it was ridiculous.

The accusation that he was a liar got the anger rising but Ciel choked it down. He had already lost his head once and it had been such a disastrous loss of control. He couldn't allow it to happen again. He had escaped The Room that time but he knew Claude wouldn't let such a blatant show of disrespect pass unpunished again.

Rather than the multitude of colourful responses racing to his lips, one featuring explicit instructions on just where Claude could stick his truth, Ciel replied, “Why don't you tell me about him, since you're apparently such an expert.”

“How about a compromise; I'll tell you what I know and then you can tell me what you think. Agreed?” Claude proposed, indulgently.

Ciel didn't miss the implication of Claude's words, the facetious little – reluctantly, if only to move things along and get the session over with as soon as possible, he relented, “Fine. Agreed.”

And so it began.

“Vincent was twenty-seven years old at the time of his death,” Claude stated, then looked to Ciel for his opinion on the matter. Honestly, the boy could hardly remember. As a child, you never considered age important, apart from your own. Adults were adults, _old._ So, unable to give an opposing answer, Ciel merely nodded his head and gestured for the doctor to go on.

“He had grey eyes,” Claude continued. Ciel nodded more emphatically this time. He remembered those eyes only too well.

“As a person, he was generally amiable. A very open man.”

“Hmm. He was very warm. Very immature too, though. Sentimental to a fault,” Ciel snickered. He found himself speaking despite his promise to himself that he wouldn't. He could feel it coming, the next question, the growing feeling of dread of just what Claude was going to do to Vincent's name, to his memory. With it came the irrational determination to defend that name. Not with lies because he had never lied about Vincent and lies were not necessary – the truth was enough.

“His relationship with your Mother, Rachel, was strained at best,” Claude remarked, no particular tone to his voice, an empty stating of a fact. Ciel's anger spiked but he reigned it in, his careful control not escaping him this time.

As steadily as he could, Ciel replied, “They had a very good relationship, actually. They loved each other.”

Claude paused, tapping his pen against the open file on his desk, not looking up at Ciel right away. When he did, there was a somewhat tired look about him, as he corrected, “My understanding is that they married young, the both of them only seventeen, the same age you are now, because Rachel fell pregnant with you. It was not a marriage of love; it was a shotgun marriage.” Ciel could feel the scowl on his face but did nothing to wipe it away, all attention focused on keeping silent in the face of the poison spilling from those lips. No answer from the boy, argument or otherwise, so Claude continued, “Their relationship only further dissolved once they moved to Renbon.”

The sense of dread hovering over Ciel descended completely at that word, the name of that place. He didn't want to listen to any more of this.

“Concerning the things that happened in Renbon... Rachel was entirely uninvolved and verbal in her disagreement. However, Vincent was an active participant-”

“ _Enough,”_ Ciel hissed, just relieved that he'd managed not to shout. Sure that he could go on in the same semi-calm vein, he allowed himself to continue, “Don't you dare. My Father never laid a hand on me. He did nothing but try to protect me.”

Claude stopped tapping the pen, placing it down on top of the papers. The look in his eyes as he glanced over at Ciel held nothing but pity, and it seethed. There was hesitation in his voice as he softly asked, “If that's true, why did Vincent never simply take you away from Renbon?”

Ciel faltered. It was only brief, couldn't have been for more than a second, but the moment he hesitated in answering, fumbled over his words, Claude had won.

“It wasn't as simple as that...”

He didn't hear Claude rise from his chair or walk around the desk to stand beside him. Placing a hand gently upon Ciel's shoulder, Claude said, “We'll leave it there for today. Just, think about it, alright?”

 

 

۞

 

 

Steam billowed in the air of the ensuite bathroom, as thick and warm as the water in which Ciel lay. Condensation had completely fogged up the fake mirror – just plastic with some kind of reflective foil pasted on top, a cheap replacement – and it was the kind of heavy heat that lulled a person to sleep.

The air was nowhere near as heated as Ciel's temper, however. Lately it seemed all he felt was varying degrees of pissed off, and that thought in itself only pissed him off all the more. It was a vicious cycle.

The levels of his anger may have varied but the source remained the same; Claude goddamn Faustus. Where the scumbag got off acting as thought he had ever known Vincent, Ciel didn't know, but he acknowledged that his Father had had a life before a son. They may have met, may have even known each other. But it was downright insulting for Faustus to be acting as though he knew Vincent better than _him._ Claude didn't know a fucking thing – _but,_ and it made him uncomfortable even entertaining the thought, the man had a point.

Ciel hated it. He really, truly hated it. Claude's talent for being able to get under his skin, just like that, because Ciel _had_ thought about it. In fact, he'd thought about it an awful lot.

In his mind, Vincent was a larger than life presence. When he remembered his Father, Ciel remembered his hero. The man was the living epitome of the word 'protector'. If there was a fall, he caught you. If there was a monster in the closet, he scared it away. If there was a cut or bruise, he kissed it better. But... that image didn't even synchronise with Ciel's own recollection of events, never mind what Claude was trying to convince him had happened.

Vincent was his protector. So why had he never tried to take Ciel away from the very things he needed protecting from? He had told Claude that things hadn't been that simple, but really, how complicated could it be to run for the sake of your child's safety. He couldn't help but think that... Claude's version of events made so much more sense than his own did.

The realisation of what he had just thought hit Ciel and he snarled, letting himself slide below the surface of the water as though to clean away the evidence of having agreed with Faustus. That was the kind of shit Claude wanted him to think! To start to doubt, to start to waver, to make it all the easier for Claude to get inside his head and shatter whatever remained of _Ciel._ No. No, he wouldn't let him. Six years, six years Ciel had held firm in his own perceptions – ah, but hadn't those same perceptions told him that Finny wasn't real? These days, that was what it always came back to. His mind, his sole constant companion, had betrayed him. The only thing he truly trusted had been so very wrong. If it hadn't been for Sebastian, he would have carried on his life believing that lie – _there is no Finny –_ to be fact and would have been none the wiser. If his mind had been wrong about Finny, there was no telling just how many other things it had been and was still wrong about. Renbon, The Fire, _Vincent?_

He couldn't ignore it any more; he could no longer trust his own mind.

Panic flared at the very thought and Ciel had to sit back up in the bathtub, needed to breathe. The heat on the air seemed to choke.

If there was one thing Ciel Phantomhive had never been, it was an idiot. In fact, he was probably the furthest thing from it. He'd realised a long time ago that he was just not going to survive in St. Victoria's alone. That was the reason he had given in to Joker's endless attempts at friendship, allowed Soma in to his world, opened himself at least marginally to Freckles, even extended the hand of camaraderie to Alois. After all, the world was against them, the very walls they lived in the enemy. The last thing he needed to do was antagonise his fellow victims. That fact was now more true than ever, and just like he had forced himself to make bonds with the other patients, part of the Us rather than one of the Them, he now had to find another mind to depend on.

If Ciel could no longer trust himself then he had to find someone else to trust in. The options were not promising and, really, there was only one true candidate. It could never have been one of his fellow patients. They were no better off than him, if not worse. Out of the lot of them, he was probably the most stable, even considering his recent problematic behaviour.

Without a shadow of a doubt, it had to be Sebastian. The man who had resisted The Change, who had proven his worth and his loyalty time and time again. The man was _his,_ Ciel knew, because he had sunken his claws in before the Institute had even had a chance. However, that did not mean security. That fact could change in an instant. _Sebastian_ could change in an instant, and god only knows the staff were working on it, Ward V and the experimental patients alone. The Change had always been both sudden and irrevocable, and that was why it was so terrifying. Sebastian could walk on to the ward that day a monster, not so much as a shadow of the man he used to be, the man Ciel was willing to hand over his closely guarded trust to.

But, no. Trust was a flimsy concept at best. The stuff of after-school specials and cheesy teen novels. Trust would not tie Sebastian to him in the unbreakable way Ciel needed, in the irrefutable way Sebastian would need to continue to resist The Change.

They needed something stronger. Something deeper. Something that would tie Sebastian down to him completely. And Ciel had a fairly good idea of just what that something could be.

 

 

* ۞ *

 

 

When Sebastian was finally relieved of his shift on Ward V, he made a beeline to Ciel's bedroom. It wasn't as though he had really gained any knowledge that they hadn't already had, but he still felt obligated to share his fruitless attempts at communication with the boy.

Crossing the threshold into Ciel's room, it was like walking head first into a wall of heat. The door to the ensuite was wide open and although he could see that the bath was empty, condensation still hung on the air, the room virtually a sauna. Not in there for more than a minute, Sebastian's skin was already dampening, either from sweat or just the moisture hanging around them.

Unsurprisingly, Ciel was sprawled unceremoniously across his mattress, the sheets kicked into a pile at his feet. He was completely out of it, eyelid fluttering in an unseen dream. It was clear that he'd just had a bath, even more clear that he hadn't even bothered to properly dry himself after. The unflattering patient uniform clung to his body, the white fabric sodden and showing a hint of the pink skin below. They were showing the lithe if not frail body to an almost indecent degree and it struck Sebastian a little odd that Ciel would allow such a blatant display of vulnerability, especially knowing perfectly well that his door was unlocked. His damp cobalt hair was softly curling at the tips, leaving a wet patch on his pillow, and little trails of water still ran down his neck.

“ _Mmf-”_

“You'll catch another cold like that,” Sebastian warned, completely unaffected by the vicious glare he was being dealt by the newly awoken boy, taking his usual seat by the desk.

Ciel dragged the towel off his face, not looking as groggy as someone who had just woken up should have, and bit out a very insincere thanks. Just like the glare, Sebastian didn't pay much mind to the tone, more than a little used to Ciel's moods these days.

“You're welcome. So I was alone on the ward today,” Sebastian began, “And Peter was kicking up a fuss.”

Ciel nodded absently, reaching down off the bed to grab a discarded rubix cube. He always solved it but ended up muddling the colours around again for the next time he got bored.

“He was as much a mess as usual so I couldn't tell just what was wrong with him. I think his eye – well, _lack_ of – was probably hurting him. God knows you can see the infection from the other side of the room.”

As he spoke, Ciel was clearly paying more attention to the toy in his hands than Sebastian's words, twisting the different columns as though aligning the colours was the most important thing he could possibly do. His fingers fumbled clumsily and the toy went scuttling across the floor. Automatically, Sebastian stepped forward and bent down to pick it up, and – and Ciel's eye was most certainly _not_ on the rubix cube in his hand.

_Oh for fuck's sake._

It probably said something about Sebastian's opinion on Ciel that when he noticed the boy's not at all subtle staring at his backside, his first thought was, _What has Grell done to my pants_ now?

With a smirk, he tossed the rubix cube back over to Ciel and asked, “See something you like?”

He expected a derisive snort or a disdainful eye roll. Probably a crack at his hair, just to be safe. What he got instead was a raised eyebrow and a curling of the lips that could only be described as... suggestive.

If Sebastian hadn't known better, he'd have thought that Ciel was attempting to flirt with him.Luckily, he did know better, so the words 'Ciel' and 'flirt' couldn't possibly be in the same sentence, not even only in his head. It just didn't compute. For one, he was fairly sure the boy had nothing remotely resembling a sex drive, a key factor in the whole attraction thing. Ciel was far too... _cold_ for that.

“...Anyway,” Sebastian continued, taking his seat once again, “Since I was on my own there, I thought it couldn't hurt to try and talk to him. Emphasis being on _try._ He didn't even recognise his own...”

The colours not yet aligned, Ciel gave a small shrug to himself and tossed the toy aside, leaving it discarded at the far end of his bed. At least feigning attention this time, he briefly met Sebastian's eyes and nodded, then started rifling through one of his drawers. It was anyone's guess where exactly the boy got the supplies for his stash, but the drawer was not short on sweets, each little wrapper as diabetes-concealing as the last. Pulling out one of the multitude of lollipops, Ciel set to work on it, the lacklustre attempt at pretending to listen now all but abandoned.

“...Mother. I got in touch with her, convinced her to come see Peter. Horrendous women, more rolls than a bakery, temperament of a bear, I can see how the kid ended up here.”

Definitely not listening then. Ciel just gave another absent nod, licking languidly at the lollipop, his tongue quickly becoming stained a cherry red. Now Sebastian had seen Ciel eat before. It wasn't something he particularly memorized, that would have been a little odd, but when you were around someone as often as they were around each other, you picked up on their little mannerisms and habits. As such, Sebastian knew that Ciel had never made a habit of giving his food the amateur porn treatment – long, exaggerated trails of the tongue, rolling the top across those soft pink lips, sucking in a way that was wasted on anything but, well, you get the picture – it was simply not what the boy did, and yet...

Unable to help it, Sebastian burst into laughter. He just had to. Staring at his ass was one thing but _deep throating a lollipop?_

“Shall I give you and the sweet some alone time, Ciel?”

That was apparently the last straw for Ciel. At the snickered question, his ears flushed a crimson red, the rest of his face soon to follow. Wrenching the sweet from his mouth, he scowled and demanded, “Why are you making this so bloody difficult?!”

Sebastian couldn't have been more baffled if the boy had been speaking a foreign language. “And what exactly is _this?”_

There could have been a thousand different answers to that question, each as bizarre as the one before it, but the very last thing he ever expected to hear Ciel say was the one that was barked at him.

“I'm seducing you, you berk!”

There was an odd moment of silence after that. Ciel, scowling over at him, nose wrinkled in distaste and the embarrassed blush seeping away, seemed to think that was a perfectly acceptable answer, as he said nothing more and just looked at Sebastian expectantly. Part of the man wanted to laugh again, though was painfully aware of just how hard Ciel could launch that rubix cube laying thankfully forgotten, for the time being, at his feet. The rest of him was just wondering what exactly in Ciel's actions had constituted seduction. Perhaps seeing a damp Ciel Phantomhive would get some people's bells ringing, but having had to take care of him when he was flu-ridden, Sebastian was more concerned about having to play nurse to the worst sick patient around. He wasn't too keen on getting lashed across the face with a cold compress again any time soon. Okay, the flirtatious smirk _maybe_ counted, but the kid smirked a lot so was it really surprising that the first conclusion Sebastian had jumped to was that he was being mocked? But... the lollipop? _Seriously?_ Where the hell had he gotten that from, a bad porno?

Rather than laugh in Ciel's face, Sebastian's lips twisted into a sly smirk, and he sniggered, “If that's the case, you really need to work on your pillow talk.”

Tossing the failed lollipop aside, Ciel sat up straight on the bed, somehow managing to regain an air of dignity despite the red still lingering about the tips of his ears. He took a deep breath and just took the bull by the horns, “Look, it's obvious I'm not into that flirting nonsense, so let's just be frank, shall we? You're attracted to me.”

“Well, someone thinks mighty highly of themselves.”  
“So you're denying it then?” There was a certainty to his voice, a confidence that Sebastian couldn't quite understand. Try as he might, he couldn't remember an instance of displaying any sort of attachment outside of the boundaries of their bizarre little friendship. Of course, it couldn't be denied, Ciel Phantomhive _was_ an attractive person. He had a porcelain beauty; powder white skin, the one eye he still possessed a deep blue that only grew deeper in the flurry of his temperament, physical features that any model would have killed for. Even outside of the physical, there was something compelling about him. The way he held himself, that way he had of owning the room and everyone in it without needing to utter a single word, it couldn't be denied that such a strong sense of self was a very alluring quality. Even the aloofness he displayed worked only to pull you in further, the rare instances of warmth like a devil's trap – he remembered them best, as few as they were, the small pockets of time with the broken Joker and Finny when Ciel had shed his careful indifference, and Sebastian had certainly found himself fascinated by those moments.

Oh yes, Ciel was an attractive person, Sebastian acknowledged, but that was not to mean he was personally attracted to him, did it?

He found himself bristling with no idea why.

“You... have a certain charm, I suppose,” Sebastian relented, “Where exactly are you going with this?”

Ciel's face was overwhelmed with the same exasperation a person would get when trying to convince a child, _no, just because it's a picture of food doesn't mean you can eat it._

“You're attracted to me. I'm attracted to you. Where the hell do you think I'm going with this?”

Sebastian blanched.

“You cannot be serious.”

“As a heart attack.”

The conversation had taken an almost surreal turn. Sebastian had to wonder if he had fallen asleep at some point – he had developed something of a habit of doing that in Ciel's room after particularly gruelling shifts on Ward V – and this was an exhaustion-induced dream. It had to be; there was no conceivable way that Sebastian was being propositioned by Ciel, the boy who had almost succeeded in throttling a fully grown man for the crime of daring to touch him.

Uncomfortable beyond belief and more than a little confused at the turn the day had taken, Sebastian scrambled for a response, managing to come up with, “You're a little young for me, don't you think?”

Ciel just rolled his eye.

“I'm legal.”

“You're a _twink.”_

“I'm sure if I knew what that meant, I'd be offended. Look,” the boy shook his head, trying to get back on topic, “You've been here for a while now, right? Well over six months. You're a healthy young man. You have urges.”  
It was all Sebastian could do not to wince. As though being propositioned by someone half his age out of the blue wasn't awkward enough, Ciel had suddenly taken on the role of a school marm. It reminded him dreadfully of sex education lessons back at high school, being told his urges were completely normal, practising putting a condom on a banana, the sheer clinicalness of it all. He half expected Ciel to break out into a speech about safe sex.

“And let's face it, unless you wave your self-respect goodbye and bend over for Grell, you're not getting laid any time soon. I'm a hormonal teenage, I'm hard-wired to be horny as fuck, whether I like it or not. The way I see it, we can help each other out here,” Ciel finished with a dainty shrug, as though he were suggesting nothing more than going out for a meal or buying new shoes.

As much as he resented even thinking it, Sebastian had to admit the kid had a point. It really _had_ been forever since he'd last had sex. It had never been a problem before. It wasn't even cockiness when he said that he could find partners without breaking a sweat. He had reached the age when one begins to notice the opposite, or in some cases the same, sex, at the same time that he'd finally grown into his gangly body and lost that oversized puppyish look. As such, he had never been without opportunities. Women, men, it was a rare case when he didn't get who he wanted and rather than making him want them more, he found it too troublesome to chase someone uninterested and himself lost interest.

Had it really been over six months? Good god. With the unexpected turn his life had taken once he had moved to St. Victoria's, everything else had fallen to the wayside, libido included apparently. He wasn't even comfortable with the idea of touching himself any more, the very few times he had begun to slip his hand beneath the waistband of his pants seemingly some sort of cue for his psychotic neighbours to come a-knocking. Just like Ciel had said, the last thing he wanted was Grell to see him doing _that_ and to take it as invitation. He quite liked his self-respect, thank you very much.

“I won't argue... it _has_ been a while,” Sebastian admitted hesitantly, though quick to continue, “But regardless, it's plainly obvious that you don't like being touched, Ciel. And I don't mean a minor dislike, I mean raw revulsion. It doesn't matter how long it's been since I last had sex, I'm not gagging for it to the point that I'd sleep with someone who would be repulsed the entire time, willing or not.”

Ciel fell silent, contemplative. As he opened his mouth to speak, he turned his whole body around to face Sebastian, making sure that Sebastian was meeting his eye. What he was going to say was important. What he was going to say had to be _heard._

“I'm not about to lie to you, I _do_ have a touch phobia, and you've seen how extreme it can get. But that's not to say I'm completely frigid, you know. And it varies from person to person. Soma and Alois are always grabby with me, I don't feel sick every time they touch me. Freckles can get a little physical too. I'm not about to scream at her for it. I'm a big boy, Sebastian, I can handle myself. Besides,” Ciel scoffed, a little bit of that sneer coming back to his voice, “There'll be rules, of course.”

“...Rules?” Sebastian asked hesitantly, curious despite himself.

“Three, to be precise,” Ciel responded promptly.

He couldn't help the derisive smirk, “Go on.”

“Rule number one,” Ciel held up his index finger, “No kissing. I've never seen the appeal and it just seems plain unhygienic. Rule number two,” his middle finger joined the first, “No full on fucking. Again, I don't see the appeal, and there are plenty of ways to get off without resorting to rutting. And rule three,” his ring finger joined the others in their upwards salute, “I stay partially if not fully dressed. Self-explanatory.”

It really wasn't but Sebastian didn't bother to point that out. He was still riddled with disbelief. That morning, all he had been worried about was his hours on Ward V and just what they would try to coerce him into doing. Now, here he was, being propositioned for sex by Ciel Phantomhive. He could say, with the utmost honesty, that he had _not_ seen that coming.

Sebastian frowned deeply.  
“Did something happen in your session with Faustus?”

Ciel blinked owlishly, “What? Why?”

“This... It just seems to be coming out of nowhere, Ciel. One day, we're talking about Peter, or – or how likely it is that Ash and Angela are really amoebic clones. Hell, we were talking about the zombie apocalypse yesterday! And now you're coming on to me? Clearly something has happened to get you thinking about me in that way in the first place. So either you had a spontaneous wet dream, or something has happened in your session. I'm more likely to believe the latter.”

Ciel donned a frown to match Sebastian's. Jesus, did the man have to analyse this to death? He was being offered no strings sex and he was questioning it. Couldn't he just get his end away like anyone else would have done? Apparently not, as Sebastian was still sat waiting for an answer to his asinine question. Fine. If he wanted some deep, psychological meaning behind it, Ciel could come up with some Freud nonsense to placate him.

“After the whole Finny thing, I... I have to wonder just what else they've done, Sebastian. To my head, my thoughts, my memories. They clearly have the ability to fuck with them. I'm... I'm not sure of things any more. I can't stop thinking about it and it's driving me mad. I need something. Something I can be _sure_ of, something physical, something to ground me. You're the only one I can trust to be that something.”

Ciel surprised himself with the admission. That had been a little closer to the truth than he had intended, after all. There was no time to regret it, though. Truth or lie, intentional or not, it had done the trick.

Sebastian approached him slowly, as though giving him a chance to take it all back, to chicken out and renege the offer. He did no such thing, just watched Sebastian's slow prowl towards him. He did not climb on to the bed with Ciel like the boy had expected him to, instead dropping into a crouch in front of him. Placing his hands gingerly on Ciel's knees, Sebastian allowed himself another small grin, and quipped, “Just for future reference; when attempting the subtle art of seduction, try to make it sound less like a business transaction.”

Ciel wasn't allowed the luxury of replying to the aggravating statement before he was pulled forward by the knees, off the bed and flush against Sebastian's chest. He allowed himself to slide down to the ground, his back resting against the side of his mattress.

The dark-haired man swooped forward, as though to kiss the boy settled between his legs. Before Ciel could scold him for breaking the very first rule not even five minutes after it had been established, Sebastian changed direction, pressing his lips against the boy's neck instead. Rather than a playful tongue, it was teeth that latched on to the skin there, nibbling just shy of painfully. Good. Just like kissing and fucking, Ciel could not see the appeal of being licked, having someone slobbering all over you simply wasn't sexy to him.

A creeping began to work its way across Ciel's skin, a fine coat of disgust settling over him and crawling across his flesh like tiny little insects with too many legs. Sebastian wasn't even using his hands _(yet)_ just his teeth teasing at his neck but already the revulsion was kicking at the door, determined to find a way into him.

_Breathe._

Battling with the disgust was the suddenly choking urge to flee. His hands itched to be pressed against Sebastian's chest – not to touch, not to feel, but to _push,_ push the man and his touches away from him and to open up the path to his bedroom door and freedom. It was a suffocation, having Sebastian's chest touching his, and he tried to reason with himself, _he's barely even touched you. There's breathing space between us._

When reasoning didn't work, didn't welcome the air into his narrowing lungs, he resorted to discipline.

_Stop this right now. You asked for this, you_ will  _accept it. It's okay, Ciel, okay? He's not hurting, he's not even trying to, and if you said stop,_ he would.

That helped. He repeated again and again in his head – _if you said stop, he would –_ and the frightening suffocation lifted. A touch wasn't so daunting when it was a touch you could control, and Ciel was the one in control of this.

He needed to test the control, though. Needed to make sure he really _was_ the one who decided what happened and when it stopped, so he grabbed a fistful of Sebastian's hair and yanked the man away from his neck.

“Stop pussyfooting around and bite me already.” He hoped Sebastian mistook his breathlessness for excitement rather than the panic that was beginning to pass, and if the hazy-eyed and lascivious smirk was any indication, his hope wasn't for nothing.

Sebastian's hands came to rest lightly on his hips as he breathed, “Yes, sir,” and leant forward once more to sink his teeth sharply into Ciel's collarbone. It wasn't a teasing bite like the other barely-there nibbles had been, a stinging bite that Ciel didn't entirely dislike. This wasn't about romance and it was a relief that Sebastian wasn't pretending it was.

The initial disgust was beginning to seep away and his body was reacting to Sebastian regardless. One of the man's hands had slipped between their bodies, his palm kneading against the growing bulge in Ciel's sweatpants. The other hand crept along the hem of his shirt, the pads of his fingers tracing along his stomach lightly, a touch that would usually tickle but now, as the heat in the pit of his stomach grew, served only to burn him more.

Even as Ciel's arousal increased, the little voice at the back of his head made its presence known, demanding that he run before things get worse. The disgust had almost entirely ebbed away by that point, however, and it was easier to smother down.

_I'll get used to it, because I_ have  _to get used to it, for both our sakes._

The hand stroking his stomach made to take off his shirt and Ciel gave his first response of touch, grasping the wandering hand tightly. Sebastian looked at him in question, the other hand not ceasing in its teasing rubs, the layer of fabric in between the skin only making the friction worse – well, better.

“My shirt stays on,” Ciel instructed, his voice thankfully not as breathy as he feared it would be.

Sebastian did not argue, giving Ciel's neck one last bite before dropping low in his crouch and getting rid of that frustrating bit of fabric between them. The man did not use his hands now, though, lowering himself further and bringing Ciel undone beneath him with his tongue alone.

Ciel did not moan like a wanton schoolgirl, something Sebastian found more than a little satisfying. That was not to say that he was completely silent under Sebastian's ministrations. With every trail his tongue made over the heated flesh, small and barely audible groans would spill past Ciel's tightly pressed together lips, breathing becoming heavier with each drawn out moment. When he came, it was with a strained grunt, the boy trying to keep himself silent but in the end unable to.

His face flushed a delightful red, Ciel caught his breath. For a while it seemed he was unable to meet Sebastian's eyes, the boy looking anywhere but at the man between his legs, but once his breath had returned to him, the bashfulness was gone too.

Their eyes met in a strong gaze and Ciel merely said, “I'm not doing  _that._ It's undignified.”

The boy did not make a show of it like Sebastian's past lovers had, no theatrics to the actions, no intentional attempts to look sultry. Yet when Ciel dragged his tongue along the palm of his hand, leaving behind a glistening trail, Sebastian's pants grew that little bit tighter, and he had to admit that, at least in that moment, there was something very attractive about Ciel to him.   
Ciel kept that strong gaze up as he unfastened the button of Sebastian's pants and pulled the zipper down, sliding his hand into the man's boxers. The saliva on his palm was both soothing and maddening when it touched Sebastian's heated flesh, and it was all he could do to stop himself bucking into the boy's hand. Ciel was merciless with his strokes, purposefully slow and drawn out, and the tiny grin, barely there but undeniably impish, made it clear that the unfair pace was entirely intentional.

Despite having done the very same thing to himself that Ciel was doing now so many times before, there was something much more exciting just from the knowledge that it was not  _his_ hand bringing forth that blinding exhilaration. Ciel's palm was smooth, untouched by the manual labour that had toughened Sebastian's own palm and left rough calluses upon his fingers, and Sebastian was very much aware of that smoothness as it ran over him with a maddening slowness. 

When Ciel finally took mercy and quickened his pace, giving Sebastian the same dizzying moment of euphoria that he had granted the boy not long before, it was not with the same determined restraint that Ciel had had. Ciel had been able to muffle himself with the  _desire_ to be quiet alone. Sebastian had to press his face into the curve of Ciel's neck to even try to quiet himself. 

As Sebastian caught his breath, coming down from the moment of pleasure, Ciel squirmed free of his position caught between the man and the bed and disappeared into the bathroom. He returned just as soon as he left, wiping his hand with a damp cloth, tossing it over to Sebastian when he was done.

“It must be near the end of your shift by now,” the boy said, retying the string of his pants.

Sebastian had never been one for being speechless, some sort of response always hiding behind his lips no matter what the situation, so it was all the more frustrating when he could gather no words to say as he wiped himself down with the cloth. Still, he was also never one to let someone else have the last word, so as he finished arranging himself and made to leave the room, he tossed back, “If we're really going to do...  _this,_ then I have a rule of my own.”

Sceptical, Ciel hesitantly replied, “Go on.”

“You're going to have to start brushing your hair. I do have standards, you know.”

 

 

۞


	20. Chapter 20

۞

 

**Chapter Twenty**

 

۞

 

 

Ciel lasted, at most, three minutes after Sebastian had sauntered from his room with that insufferable smirk. For those three minutes, he made the conscious effort to be very still, very calm. It was a simple enough thing at first, the lingering heaviness of what he refused to refer to as after-glow still swamping him, and it was easy not to think. Unfortunately, his mind had always been his own worst enemy. When it returned, it returned with a vengeance.

He had felt this feeling before but refused to refer to it by name. It was a _thick_ kind of emotion. It started slowly, like the first few steps as a person walked into water. It pooled around his feet, not entirely noticeable. Then it rose, becoming heavier and more difficult to ignore. It began to drag at his clothes, make it so much harder to tread water, until it was a full body struggle to even move. It had started as unnoticeable but quicker than he could realise, it was suddenly over his head, stealing the place in his lungs that should have housed air.

As the shame suffocated him that night, Ciel clasped his lips over the mouth of his inhaler and choked on the bitter medicinal taste, bidding his chest to stop heaving and his mind to stop screaming.

He was ashamed – he had offered himself up like some common streetwalker, to one of the few people whose opinion, he had to admit, may have mattered to some degree. It wasn't even the act that was leaving him so stolen of air. Sex was sex, nothing more than a person's greed for their own gratification, back-seat fumblings desperate for that fleeting moment of bliss. It wasn't as though he was alien to it all himself. Yes, he may have liked to think of himself as above it, to be as cold and unfeeling as possible, but at the end of the day, he had not been lying when he'd told Sebastian that he was just as much a slave to his hormones as any other teenage boy. With puberty came awkward mornings of sticky bedsheets like some perverse initiation rite, may well have been a greeting card, _You're All Grown Up Now!,_ with some tissues tucked away in the envelope in place of the customary ten pound note.

No, it wasn't the act itself that had Ciel clinging to the inhaler like a life-line, dependant upon the little plastic rectangle in a way he hadn't been since he was new at St. Victoria's and still naive enough to hope. More than anything, he was ashamed of the fact that he had had to resort to it at all. He prided himself on his cunning, his ability to manipulate his surroundings to his benefit. May there have been another way? If he hadn't been so thrown by his sessions with Claude, by the entire situation with Finny, his own growing doubts about the memories he still clung to, would he have been able to find a more palpable remedy to the situation?

It stung. He had found a solution, certainly, but one that sacrificed the impenetrability he had always ensured himself. By propositioning Sebastian, he had lowered himself from the controller's position by some degree. He had been so very careful in his interactions with the man – to Sebastian, he was someone who had answers, some form of ally. The plan had always been to have Sebastian as nothing more than a means to an end, the brawn to his brains, the one who opened doors. However, Ciel had backed himself into a corner now, hadn't he? Even before that day and the upgrade of their relationship, that little plan that kept Ciel at a safe distance had been wavering.

That night when Sebastian had taken a leap of faith for the sake of knowledge and agreed to let him out of the ward to help Joker, Ciel had made a compromise. To ease Sebastian's suspicions, he had bound them together, tied their wrists with a bit of cloth. To Sebastian, it probably meant no more than it looked. To Ciel, it had been putting all his eggs in one basket. If they were caught that night, Ciel would not have been able to run, at least not as quickly as he would have done unbound. No, they'd have been caught together, and Ciel would pay the same price as Sebastian. Had it really started that early? These uncharacteristic submissions?

And then all the compromises he made while trying to help Finny. He had been livid at Sebastian for reading his file, a betrayal, not of trust because there was no trust between them then as far as Ciel was concerned, but a betrayal none-the-less. Yet hadn't Ciel dropped that anger quickly? It wasn't, as he was sure it seemed, because he had been swept up in the drama surrounding their situation. Despite the new problems and fears surfacing, there had been a little voice constantly whispering at the back of Ciel's mind; _he's seen it. He's read it. He knows._ And every time that poisonous little murmur became louder than all his other thoughts, there certainly was a flicker of rage. Sebastian had had no right, especially when Ciel himself had yet to glimpse the slander he was no doubt being dealt on those pages. Regardless, he hadn't made a confrontation over the matter like he _should_ have, definitely should have to set a precedent. If he let Sebastian get away with such a thing once, he would certainly try to again, surely. The most recompense he had issued had been his leaving Agni behind and the refusal to go try and find him again – not so much meant as callousness towards Agni as it had been a message to Sebastian, that Ciel came first, _always._

A point well made when Sebastian had followed him like a loyal dog despite his own issues. However, a point ruined when Sebastian had offered him escape. No strings attached, no debt to be collected later, pass go and collect two hundred dollars, _freedom._ And Ciel had said no. No because it did not sit with him, skulking away in the dark like a coward, shedding his dignity and spending the rest of his life constantly jumping at shadows. No because – and the thought had Ciel grasping for his inhaler once more, still unmoved from the edge of the bed he had stumbled on to – Sebastian would surely be the first to pay for his disappearance. Somehow, for some reason, that fact seemed to matter. Once upon a time, it wouldn't have. In fact, earlier that very night, it wouldn't have. But just the fact that Sebastian had even offered such a thing, entirely selfless and completely for Ciel's benefit, gave Ciel pause. Oh, he'd analysed it that night. Turned the simple gesture over in his mind until it rotted. But no matter what way the boy twisted it, broke it and pieced it back together, he could find no ulterior motive beneath it that spoke of anything sinister.

Ciel, who wanted nothing more than to shatter the walls of St. Victoria's until they could never hold him again, had turned away from the chance to run free, all for the sake of someone else. It was uncharacteristic, it was not the type of thing he did, and it scared him.

Sebastian was destroying him. Ciel had always looked on their odd little alliance as one-way, as Ciel having sunken his claws in to Sebastian, but that was looking less and less true by the instance. If Ciel had sunken his claws in to Sebastian then clearly Sebastian had gotten a grip on him too, enough to garner himself the same begrudging care that the boy had eventually allowed Alois and Soma, Freckles and sometimes even Joker.

It was not love. It may not have even been like. It was necessity. The powerful boy rendered powerless by circumstance and the bored man with control to share, their footing in sanity beginning to erode and sinking their claws in to one another more sharply, deeper and deeper until that was all that was holding them up.

It was terrifying, this alarming codependency Ciel suddenly found himself embroiled in, and as he shuddered on the edge of his bed, he found the inhaler not nearly enough to calm his frantic, panicked gasps. It was useless to him now so he discarded it, instead bundling his sheets and a pillow in to his arms and lumbering into the bathroom. The lock of the door was cool and heavy as he twisted it shut, the bolt clicking in to place so very loud in that small and private room, and already isolation was doing what the inhaler hadn't managed – with no other sound but his own rattling breaths, it was so very easy to pretend that he had locked the world away behind that door, shut out his fear, his demons, even his chilly logic that was telling him he was being silly, if Sebastian was changing him then it was a change that better tied the man to him and brought them closer to escape.

Ciel had long since put his foot down with himself about escapism, any indulgence in fantasy, but just for that one night, he allowed himself a shattering moment of vulnerability. It was something he hadn't done since he was thirteen and the realisation had hit him that Vincent was not coming for him, that he could wait forever but it would be fruitless. Just like he had done that night over four years ago, Ciel tossed his bedding into the bathtub, climbed inside and yanked the curtain tightly across. Just like with locking the door, Ciel allowed himself to imagine that the world had suddenly blinked out of existence. There was only him, cocooned inside his quilt, hidden away in his private corner of the world. Outside of that yellowing shower curtain, there was nothing. A void, vast and empty, blissfully silent. A perfect isolation.

When he awoke the next morning, it was to cramped quarters and stiff bones, but a peaceful mind. The fear, the panic, the shame – it had evaporated. It was a new morning and he looked back on the previous day with a fresh mind. What he had set in motion with Sebastian, whether he could have come up with a safer alternative or not, was not something for him to regret. It had its risks, yes, but every step was a risk at the Institute.

He had a shower, got dressed and put that night behind him. It would be the sole moment of weakness that he allowed himself in the rest of his time at St. Victoria's and one that wouldn't be forgotten.

At ten o'clock that morning, Ciel strode out of his bedroom with the same self sure swagger he had worked so hard to possess. To the other patients milling about in the leisure room, there was not a thing different about Ciel Phantomhive, not the remotest waver in that single defiant blue eye.

 

 

۞

 

 

“What on earth are they doing?” Sebastian asked with a confused glance across the leisure room, slipping in to the empty seat across from Ciel. Joviality was the call of the day, laughter on the air, the room more boisterous than usual.

It was doing nothing for Ciel's headache.

“I'm sure on some planet it's considered juggling. Earth, on the other hand....” Ciel grumbled, not deigning to look in their direction.

Oddly enough, at the centre of the group was Snake. A very flustered looking Snake. His ivory hair was a rat's nest, his clothes a shambles and Sebastian could see from across the room that if he took another step forward he was going to go flying over the several balled up pairs of socks lying at his feet. At his side was the wrong redhead. Rather than Drocell, his constant companion and who may as well have been his conjoined twin for all the space usually between them, was Joker. As Sebastian watched the unusual duo, Snake predictably trod on one of the hazards lying at his feet and went A over T. Joker attempted to catch him with his one good arm and only ended up sprawled beneath him, laughing good-naturedly and waving off Snake's spluttered apologies.

“Where's Drocell?” Sebastian glanced around the group, Joker's usual lot, the taciturn redhead not amongst them.

“Sick, apparently,” at the frown, Ciel hastened to add, “Not anything to be concerned over, as far as I can see. A cold, not staff-manufactured. Snake was sulking in the corner so Joker took it on himself to distract him.”

“This is a painful distraction to watch,” Sebastian chuckled. As he spoke, the make-shift juggling balls once again went flying in all directions, one pegging Beast across the head. She reacted with her usual good grace, pretty face snarling and launching the ball back where it came from with a backhand any athlete would be jealous of. “Exactly whose genius idea was it for the one-armed man to teach the klutz juggling of all things?”

It was all, Ciel thought, a little too normal. If he were in the habit of wet dreams, he'd think the events of the previous day had been nothing more than a particularly vivid one. He wasn't quite sure what he had expected to happen now. Truth be told, he'd been antsy all day waiting for Sebastian to eventually show up for his shift on the ward – an occurrence which was happening later and later in the day until it seemed entirely pointless for him to show up at all.

Would Ciel be expected to perform? Well, he had made the offer, after all. He could hardly be surprised if Sebastian were to take him up on it. Still, the anxiety creeping upon him was not what he had planned. The entire thing was supposed to help get _rid_ of his anxiety, not make it worse. An oversight, unfortunately. It couldn't be helped, he supposed. It was hard to account for things with which he had no experience, sexual relationships being probably the highest on the list. Not enough data.

The restlessness as he had awaited Sebastian's arrival had even driven him out of his own bedroom. A part of him had worried that if he stayed there, even if he wasn't lounging on his bed like usual, it may be taken as invitation. Invitation was the furthest thing from his intentions now.

Ciel had set the ball rolling. It would be down to Sebastian to decide the momentum.

A part of him – a very _small_ part, mind – may have actually been a bit disappointed by the new development. Now that he had taken it to the next level, things would not be the same. There would be no more innocent games to pass the time and exercise his superior skill, relishing the obvious bruises he was dealing to Sebastian's ego in the process. There would be no more simple conversations – well, considering their conversations were usually weighed down with the subject of sinister staff and potential GBH, perhaps not all that simple, but still. And now that sex had been introduced to the equation, the odd sort of companionship they had built up over those number of months since Sebastian had arrived, equal parts camaraderie and antagonism, would never be the same.

Ciel had gained an ally but lost a companion, and considering how dismally few of those he had, it was more disappointing than he'd have thought.

“I can juggle, you know. Very well, actually,” Sebastian had continued talking despite Ciel's unresponsiveness, almost seemed to have expected it, “And I have to say, there are far fewer casualties.”

Ciel merely hummed in response, looking in his direction but gaze clouded over. A shadow lingered beneath his eye, a deep exhaustion hanging about the boy like a miasma – he hadn't slept, and if he had, it had not been a restful one.

It struck Sebastian not for the first time. Ciel had such a sharp mind, a quick wit, a grasp of manipulation that would have politicians green with envy. However, for all that, regardless of how much of an adult resided inside him, sometimes Ciel was just as clueless as any other teenager.

Sebastian leaned across the space between them, expecting the sudden jolt back Ciel took, and whispered, “You're thinking too much.”

Before the boy could respond, Sebastian had left his seat, striding over to the group and filching a few of the balled-up socks. He was back just as quickly, gesturing for Ciel to stand up.

A sense of dread about where this was going, Ciel remained determinedly in his seat.

“Not a chance.”

“It's harder than it looks, y'know. Takes quite a bit of focus. Hard to think things to death while you're juggling,” Sebastian stated, throwing one of the balls into the air and passing the other two between his hands with a well-practised ease and more grace than one would have thought a person could possess when tossing around socks.

“It's nothing to do with focus. It's just hand-eye coordination and, I'm willing to bet, a fair amount of depth perception. That rules me out,” Ciel shrugged, not even trying to adopt a disappointed air.

“Don't you pull the one-eyed card on me. As the recipient of a lot of projectiles thrown by yours truly, I know first hand just how good an aim you have,” Sebastian rebutted, the balls now passing through the air and his hands in a perfect cycle.

Ciel rolled his eye. _Show-off._

“Irrelevant. You're just an easy target,” Ciel replied, resisting the petty urge to kick him in the shin and see if he could keep it up then, “You can't seriously think you're going to get me to do _that,_ can you? Even your ego isn't that inflated.”

“Hmm. No way you could do it anyway. You have all the coordination of Bambi, and half the charm.”

“Do _not_ reverse psychology me. It's insulting,” Ciel huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, indignant.

“I seem to remember you doing it to me once. _'Afraid to lose,'_ wasn't it?” Sebastian grinned as Ciel gave a bark of laughter, and with even that minimal laugh, some of the tension in the boy seemed to fade.

“I couldn't believe that worked. So easy,” Ciel smirked, “Reminiscing, are we? Must be getting sentimental in your old age, Sebastian.”

“To be so bright eyed and bushy tailed again,” he sighed longingly, returning to his seat without disrupting the flow of his hands and the socks at all. Ciel watched closely and huffed again when not a single ball was dropped.

“Show off,” the boy bit out, though the words didn't have quite the same sharpness to them that they once would have.

Sebastian didn't succeed in getting Ciel to try juggling, to no-one's surprise. He wasn't too disappointed though, relishing in quite another success as Ciel allowed himself another half-stifled laugh, the shadow in his eye fading little by little.

 

 

۞

 

 

His reflection was a blur.

The shower had been too hot, leaving the entire room misty with condensation, a stifling heat. The mirror was so streaked, his entire reflection was just a haze of yellow, blue and pink. His features were completely indistinguishable, the faux-mirror showing none of the wide blue eyes that always found their way to that man, nothing of the lips that had played too long at a smile, none of the bitterness that it would shatter trying to contain. It was a good thing, being a blur, and he was much more content to stare at the fog of colour that he'd become than to leave the bathroom and be faced with what he had done to his bedroom.

The anger that had consumed him a few days ago had left destruction in its wake. His bedroom was the sole place in the world that he could call his own, but it had been ruined by his own hands. The sparse belongings lay broken on the carpet, the few bits of furniture upturned, the journal, once so treasured, ripped apart at the spine and left useless and beyond repair on the floor.

The anger had deserted him as quickly as it had come, and all that was left now was a blur of colours in a fake bathroom mirror. He was just... lost. What did you do, Alois wondered as he watched a droplet of water streak down the mirror and blur his colours further, when the only two people who mattered in your life didn't want you in theirs?

“S'not fair,” it was the first time he had spoken out loud in days and his voice was unrecognisable to his own ears. Hollow, rough from lack of use, impossibly quiet. Was his voice blurred too? Was even that indistinguishable now?

Alois startled at the feel of something wrapping tightly around his middle, freezing in place. A solid heat pressed up against his back, something ticklish brushing softly across his still damp skin. It took a few seconds before he could move again, as the small arms wrapped around his torso tightened a fraction and Alois whipped around, lashing his arm out and staggering backwards at the same time. The arms didn't put up a fight, releasing him as soon as he struggled. The sink was cold as it pressed into Alois' back and he looked over at the intruder.

Messy auburn hair starting to curl in the condensation framed a chubby pink face, puppy fat that he would never grow out of. Big brown eyes, always with that wide and unblinking quality that unnerved most but was only for the sake of not missing a thing, staring over at Alois with the same warmth that he could never forget. Dressed exactly the same as the last time they'd seen each other, light brown dungarees that matched his eyes with a white dress shirt that was just that little bit too big, the sleeves hanging over his hands. The front of his clothes were a little darker in colour than the rest – damp, from where he had hugged a not yet dry Alois. The boy shifted nervously, his happy little smile twitching as he waited impatiently.

It started with a choked breath, half-way out Alois' throat but then stumbling, leaving him gasping for another, and another, and another. It started quietly, just a wispy little chuckle that grew with each gasp until Alois was bent double with laughter, groping at his stomach as though it would ease the clenching knot. His laughter sounded far too loud within the small bathroom and within his own head, not sounding like his own at all, like the walls were mocking him, his own mind taunting.

“W-Why are you laughing?” Luka asked timidly, warm brown eyes swimming with confusion and concern. Oh, that voice. That voice that had haunted Alois for years, the same tone, the same inflection, the same high-pitched sweetness so long overdue.

Alois could barely speak for the seemingly endless bursts of laughter bubbling from his lips, eventually managing to croak, “I – I guess I really _have_ gone mad!”

Luka's face crumpled, and the laughter cut itself off immediately. His brow furrowed, pale lips pressed into a frown – it was an expression that could, even after all these years, stop Alois in his tracks in an instant.

The little boy stepped hesitantly forward, unsure in his every step, looking at his brother for the slightest hint that his approach wasn't wanted. As he drew closer, he raised his arms up to embrace Alois again but dropped them awkwardly, pausing and leaving a gap still between them. The hurt in his voice was undeniable when he said, “I thought you'd be happy to see me, Jim.”

_Oh._ Something in Alois was completely torn at those wounded words, soft eyes peering up at him with wariness that he should never have to feel, not with Alois, not with his big brother. The fear of being unwanted that Alois knew only too well – he couldn't inflict it on Luka, not  _his_ Luka.

And yet... it wasn't real. Oh god, it couldn't be real. He knew that, he wasn't so far gone as to not know that.

Another hysteric bark of laughter slipped from him as Alois replied, “I'd be a lot happier to see you if it wasn't a sign that I'm completely off my head.”

Luka risked a timid little grin, as though testing the waters, and shrugged his shoulders, “What's it matter? So long as you're not lonely.”

The boy darted forward once more, suddenly emboldened, and threaded his arms around Alois' waist once more. Alois was ten again, with his little brother in his arms, that single thing enough to make all the bad surrounding them go away; That Man became a faded memory, a thing of nightmares that slipped away as soon as you awoke; the painful pangs of starvation were so much easier to bear, the delirium of dehydration pushed far away; all thought of Claude and Ciel, Ciel and Claude, individually,  _together,_ it disappeared. 

It didn't matter any more. Nothing mattered any more except the arms wrapped around him, so warm, so tight, so  _real._ Oh, he knew it wasn't. It couldn't be real, not when he had seen Luka's body cold in the dirt with his very own eyes, but that image was so hard to summon when his voice was in Alois' ears and his body was warm against Alois' own. What was real was Claude no longer caring about him, was Ciel no longer needing him, was his own degenerating ability to ignore the darker thoughts in his mind. 

Alois dropped to his knees, eye-level with his little brother, and pulled the boy into his chest. Burying his face in Luka's neck and feeling the warmth of another person surrounding him, Alois knew that something inside him had finally broken, snapped with no hope of ever being fixed. But it was so hard to care.

When sanity was so lonely, maybe being crazy wasn't all that bad.

 

 

۞

 

 

“Have you thought any more on your Father, Ciel?” Claude asked with what some would mistake as hesitance. A considerate reluctance to encroach on a subject that had proven so very unwelcome. Ciel made no such mistake, knowing only too well that every choice of word and pause in speech was of Claude's careful design.

“I have,” Ciel confessed, imitating the same reluctant tone with a much better grasp on sincerity, “And I – well, I was ten when they died. I can't honestly say that I remember everything with clarity. Who really remembers their childhood accurately? I'm... willing to accept that I may be remembering things through a child's eye.”

Lies.

Every word was a lie.

Ciel had finally decided on a course of action. Thinking that he could just grin and bear it had been a foolish thing, arrogant even – better than anyone, Ciel should have known not to underestimate Claude Faustus. As loathe as he was to admit it, Ciel was on Claude's battleground. In a battle between a doctor and a patient, the doctor had the natural advantage. Even more so given Claude's concerning amount of knowledge into Ciel's past. It truly had been foolish of Ciel to think that by remaining as unresponsive as he could, he could get through these sessions with Claude. That had failed so quickly, outburst after outburst being pulled from him, to the point that he had been rendered under Claude's mercy.

If he was at a natural disadvantage then the only option that remained was to play the game by Claude's rules. Out of the several strategies Ciel had made, one stood out higher than the rest, and so it was that he would lie. If 'recovery' was the aim of this game – being rehabilitated into a model citizen, capable of re-entering society once more – then a recovery that didn't involve electrocution or some other barbaric method was definitely the target. He would have to lie through his teeth, besmirch his Father's name entirely, but that was a necessary sacrifice. As long as he knew himself what had really happened back then, it didn't matter what Claude believed, or believed Ciel believed. Anything that got him closer to those wrought-iron gates once and for all.

“I see. It's good that you're starting to look at this more rationally,” Claude replied slowly, eyes blank as they watched him closely. Not a hint of belief there, of course, and that was to be expected. After all these years, the Doctor made a point of assuming that every word out of Ciel's mouth was a lie. He wasn't entirely wrong.

Ciel snorted, “We'll see about that. For now, I'll humour you, if only to move things along a little. I still think you're talking nonsense, but go on, let's see how plausible you can make your lies sound.”

Ah, that did the trick. Just the right amount of haughtiness and annoyance, with copious amounts of reluctance all round.

“An open mind is all I ask for,” Claude replied, and so it began again. Words that vilified Vincent to a slanderous degree, casting Rachel as the distressed damsel, and then Ciel, as the broken boy that he would never let himself really be.

Ciel let the poison wash over him, holding his temper carefully in check, nodding at all the right places and occasionally tossing out a snide remark to keep things believable. And when Claude turned it up a notch, trying to force a reaction that Ciel couldn't let himself give, Ciel turned his thoughts to Sebastian.

The development with Sebastian had been two-fold. Securing the man from The Change was the major motivator, along with claiming an exterior source of reason for himself when Ciel's own mind may not be as trustworthy as it once was. However, there had been another, less significant reason for it.

As Claude continued talking, Ciel let his mind wander and repressed a smug grin. There was something incredibly...  _powerful_ in knowing something that Claude did not. Even though he was undeniably trapped under Claude's thumb and within the Institute walls, there was something entirely under Ciel's control, a secret that he knew would infuriate Claude just as much as Claude's words infuriated him. 

Upon Ciel's collar bone, an angry red bite stained his pale skin, and as Ciel remembered it, he could almost feel a lingering sting from where Sebastian's teeth had pressed too hard and punctured the flesh.

What would Claude think, if he saw that bite? A physical mark of someone else upon him. The temptation soared to  _accidentally_ let the shoulder of his shirt slip down and leave the mark in plain sight, just to wipe that blankness from Claude's face. To see that he could pull the rug from under Claude's feet just as easily as Claude had been doing it to him all those past sessions. 

But, no. That would be childish, not too mention counter-productive. After all, this was not for Claude. This was his, knowledge just for him, something for Ciel to hold on to when Claude was shattering the reality he thought was his with lies so plausible.

Still, there was a smug satisfaction in Ciel's little secret. Claude had him here in this gilded cage and thought that sick sense of ownership would last. But now someone else had come, was seeing Ciel and touching Ciel in a way that Claude could only dream of.

It was a victory, not just his but Sebastian's too, over this malevolent doctor. It was  _theirs._

 

 

۞


	21. Chapter Twenty One

 “Beast, can ya – yeah, thanks.” Joker grunted in poorly masked discomfort as she manoeuvred his mangled left arm through the sleeve of his sweatshirt. Even after Jumbo's careful tending, it was touch and go on the healing front, and the gentlest of movements could ignite a burst of agony. The jagged clump of skin at his forearm and the ropes of tendons stubbornly holding the bones together were a breeding ground for infection, exposed and vulnerable. Even though a good half a year had passed now with only a few scares, Joker still couldn't shake his fear that one morning he would wake up to find the skin darkening with rot.

“Should I get Jumbo? He's still sleepin', but –” Beast began, her delicate features haunted by an ever-lingering worry. It struck Joker then that he could no longer remember what her face looked like without that shadow of concern. The thought was not one that pleased him.

“Nah, m'fine. Much rather have a pretty girl dressin' me.” Joker grinned, dropping an eyelid in a wink that he knew would bring the colour to her cheeks. As dependable as clockwork, she flushed predictably, trying and failing to pretend that the offhand comment didn't effect her like it did. There was nothing shy about the way she went on to strip him of his pyjama bottoms, however. As clinical and detached as she could be, a bedside manner to put Angela to shame. She was trying to spare his dignity, he knew, but she failed just as badly at that as she had in trying to hide her blush.

Dignity was nothing more than a half-forgotten dream to him now. It had been stripped away with every hack of the blade, stolen as easily as the skin of his arm, well beyond his lame reach. They had rendered him a weeping child, cowering from them as an infant would the shadows beneath its bed. Beast could be as clinical and nonchalant about the entire affair as she liked, but just the fact that he even needed her help to so much as dress himself left him bristling. Twenty one years of age, yet hardly able to pull up his own pants, let alone tie the drawstring around his waist. Humiliation had him as ready to flush as Beast. The pain of his arm stung, but his inability to dress alone, to face a mirror without cringing away as though it could actually harm him, it was those things that made Joker seethe.

“So,” Beast worried her bottom lip between her teeth, bringing it to a bright red that no stick of lipgloss could hope to emulate, “Drocell has gotten worse. A fever, Snake said, when I could get him to say anything at all.”

“Oh?” Joker hummed non-committally, focusing on lacing his shoes with one hand. He heard Beast cluck her tongue impatiently, saw her hands reach over to help, and he knocked them away. More harsh than he had intended to be, if the way she jerked back was anything to go by. Instantly an apology was on his lips, the words ready to spill forth when he met her wounded gaze, but he found himself swallowing it down as his mood further soured. The lace slipped between his fingers yet again, and he found himself in no mood to apologize. “All he can do is sleep it off. We don't exactly have medicine hidden between the couch cushions, y'know.”

Her dark eyes brightened with a flash of annoyance, yet no sharp words were thrown his way. Before he had been taken, when he was everyone's untouchable defender, she would not have shied away from giving him a good hard slap around the back of the head. _C'mon, I'm bein' a prick, say somethin'!_ But no, these days every conversation had her walking on eggshells, so afraid of saying the wrong thing. She should have known him better than that. She should have known better than to be so tentative, to measure her every word so carefully. It had him itching for a fight, lashing out to provoke a reaction. He wanted her fierce, he wanted her to call him out when he was being insufferable. If she didn't tell him off, how was he supposed to know when he was acting wrong? He couldn't stand this, being handled with kid gloves.

“I know that,” Beast replied carefully, so very carefully, doing her best to sound diplomatic, “But we've always been good at improvising. We sorted Smile out that time –”

“Staff helped, not the same,” Joker cut in, tongue peeking through his lips as he concentrated on trying to loop one of the laces around the other. Yet again the little white strings dropped away from his grip, and he growled beneath his breath. Beast reached out once more but he stopped her with a glare. She looked even more frustrated than him, if that were possible. Always so eager to help, so desperate to be useful, but he was in less a mood to play nice by the minute.

“Yeah, well … I can't see Sebastian putting himself out there for Drocell, can you?” If she kept gnawing away at her lip like that, she was going to bleed it. It was already purpling beneath her teeth. Her nails were digging in where she was clutching her arms around her too, little pink welts imprinted on her skin. Joker wanted to pull her hands away before she scratched herself again – there were already ragged red lines along her arms, her fretting was always so obvious – but he needed the only hand he had to finish tying his damn shoe. It had been five minutes now, and he still hadn't done even one. “We at least need to keep his temperature down or else he'll end up in the infirmary.”

That was playing dirty, mentioning the infirmary, and maybe Beast wasn't being careful with him so much as she was being strategic. That was better, so much better, that hint of calculation in her eyes. She knew how to play him, she always had. Play on his worry, play on his sympathies. Pluck on his strings until she got the sound she wanted. Nothing good ever came from a visit to Doctor and his little den. If he sat there, festering in his own temper, only for Drocell to disappear and not come back – well, he'd have to deal with guilt then too, and that was the last thing he needed on his plate.

Beast was fighting down a smirk. Abandoning his shoe, he reached out for her, prying one of her hands away from her arm before she could do herself any more damage, and pulled her down beside him on the bed. He couldn't help the smile pulling at his own lips. Who'd have thought emotional manipulation could ever be a _good_ sign? At least she wasn't treating him like a landmine. Beast still had bite when she thought it mattered.

“I'll talk to Snake, make sure he knows to monitor Drocell's temp. Watch out for any sign that he's hallucinatin' – if it reaches that point, the infirmary may be the only way to go – but fingers crossed he won't be that bad. We'll take turns checkin' in on them throughout the day. Alright?”

Beast graced him with a smile, leaning her shoulder against his companionably and twining their fingers together for a brief moment before going to kneel down in front of him.

“Don't understand why you're fine with me getting your pants on but you're getting so pissy over your shoes,” she muttered as she laced them up with ease, then immediately rolled her eyes before Joker even had the chance to make a salacious comment.

In truth, Joker's poor mood could not be entirely blamed on this still foreign helplessness. Obviously that played a part – it was disarming, no pun intended, going from being able to do everything for yourself to needing assistance tying your shoes – but today it had more today with Drocell. No sooner had his name left Beast's mouth had the thought _what does it have to do with me_ flashed through his mind. It was heartless, yes, but it was also his automatic reaction to the other patient's plights these days. After all, it had been his attempt to look out for Peter that had landed him in that mess in the first place. He'd have to be mad to go through that and not feel his self-preservation instinct more keenly.

Joker wasn't sure when or why he had become the leader of the patients. He certainly hadn't applied for the dangerous position, that was for sure. There was no doubt in his mind that that was how staff and fellow patients alike saw him, as nonsensical as it seemed to him. Unlike Smile, he was not the most knowledgeable regarding the Institute, nor was he the longest residing there. And unlike Peter and Wendy, he was not the oldest amongst them, so did not have that natural seniority that commanded respect. Yet, despite his age and years of residence not being nearly as impressive as some of the others, it had been him that the rest of the patients had fallen in line behind. Him they looked to for guidance and protection. Him they put in a position of prominence when to survive you needed to be invisible.

The truth of the matter was that he hated them for it. Most days it was only a little. Just a slight pang in his chest when he looked at them, hidden safely in his shadow. Other days, when he woke up sweating from the pain and unable to even step into the bathroom from the fear that he may glimpse his reflection, that pang became a searing burn deep inside his chest, one that threatened to scald him from the inside out. He had never asked for this and it wasn't fair. Where was his shield, when they were busy hiding behind him? Smile had come for him back then, it was true, but even then, he came too late to spare him the staff's attack. And what had the others done, his little clique, apart from sit around and fret? He knew what they would have expected him to do for them if the situation had been reversed. To come for them, of course, to save them like some knight in shining armour. Well, Joker was sorry to disappoint, but a threadbare sweatshirt made poor armour, and it had done little to protect _him._

It was too easy to let himself resent them, but he was not the type of man who held grudges. For all that he wished they wouldn't depend on him so much, and for all the hate he felt in quiet moments alone, they were the closest thing he had or would ever have to a family. Intermittent hate was just a part of that, he supposed. No family was without its strife. So when they came through the other end of a bad treatment and needed comfort or entertainment, he would supply it without hesitation or even needing to be asked.

That was exactly why, he supposed, the reason they rallied behind him. The moment any of the other patients – his brothers and sisters, in bond rather than blood – were reaching their limits, his resentment at being their human shield dissolved and made way for concern. He couldn't help reaching out to them, his only allies, whether they wanted it or not. Not just his little group, the ones he surrounded himself with on a daily basis, but the stragglers too. Smile, Soma, Drocell, Snake and even Alois, they were all just as important to him, even if he didn't see as much of them as he did the others. Drocell and Snake had each other, tucked away in corners and consumed in their own joint world. Soma was impossible to fix down to a spot, to hold still long enough to have a conversation with, but he flitted in and out as he pleased. Smile, well, Smile cared more than he let on. Then there was Alois.

From the moment Alois Trancy had been led onto the ward, dull-eyed and silent, small fist clutching at Dr. Faustus' sleeve like a lifeline, Joker had known to be wary. There had been something in him that had made Joker want to recoil, an emptiness to the boy's features that spooked him. This first impression had only been confirmed over the years. Prone to sudden tempers, smiling too easily for it to be genuine and with an appalling violent streak, Joker was not too proud to admit that Alois scared him. And sometimes, as cruel as it seemed, he looked upon Alois and wondered if perhaps St. Victoria's was the perfect place for him to be. For a person who had no qualms about plunging his fingers into an innocent person's eye, these walls seemed the safest place for him, and for everybody else to be safe from him, too.

As keen as that fear was at times, it didn't change the fact that Alois was as much a victim as the rest of the patients, and Joker's brother in the asylum too. For all that Joker resented his role of leader, he did nothing to refute it, playing the part as well as he could. From that vantage point, he saw more than the other patients did regarding one another. He noticed when Wendy was staring blankly to her side, looking for someone who was no longer there. He noticed when Dagger was climbing the walls and needed to escape the group for a while. He even noticed when Freckles had missed a night of sleep, as much as she tried to hide the fact from the others. So it did not escape his watch that Alois and Smile, once joined at the hip, however reluctantly on Smile's part, were now actively avoiding one another.

It made Joker worry. _A lot._

To even the blindest of people, the cause of their sudden distance would have been blatant, the eye-patch that Smile had been wearing for four years now a testament to the forever lingering tension between the two friends. To see how close they had become, nobody would have guessed that it was Alois himself who was the reason that Smile had lost his eye, but Joker had seen the attack himself. The cause was the same then as it was now; Dr. Claude Faustus.

Smile had done nothing to provoke Alois other than being the unwilling recipient of Faustus' attention. Unlike most of the other patients, Smile had not approached Alois, not extended friendship only to be met with aggression and spite. Nearly all of them had attempted to welcome Alois into their good graces, but he had done nothing to ingratiate himself into the group, and as it stood, Joker was the only one still trying to make a connection. A part of him hoped that the others would follow his lead, as futile as that was. But even Joker threw in the towel after Alois, seeing Smile returned to the ward following a session with Faustus, launched himself at the smaller boy without provocation. It didn't last long. No sooner had he knocked Smile to the ground and sunk his fingers into Smile's right eye had Soma, not frozen in shock like the rest of them, bounded over and flung Alois away.

Alois had visited The Room for the first time following that incident, and he hadn't returned quite the same person, but by that point, none of the patients were willing to show even a modicum of care. Aggression and spite were one thing, expected even, and they could have forgiven it. But to attack another patient, one of _them,_ there should have been no forgiving that. And yet.

“If you were trying to kill me, your execution needs work.” Smile, half his face hidden by thick white bandages, had approached Alois without hesitation the moment he had seen him curled up in one of the armchairs. The Room had done a number on the blond, left him trembling and jumping at every noise, a shadow of the angry little thing he had been only a week before. He tensed when Smile stood before him, as though preparing himself for a blow, but he wasn't to know just yet that Smile never wounded with a fist when he could with a word.

“I … ” Alois began, even that small sound so weak and trembling, but he had nothing to say. He just stared at Smile warily, bracing himself for however Smile intended to get back at him. The other inhabitants of the leisure room were doing much the same, watching curiously. Even Joker wasn't sure he'd intervene if it came to blows.

“The throat would have been a better bet. This was more of an annoyance than actually life threatening,” Smile continued when Alois didn't reply, words so casual that he could have been discussing the weather rather than his near-blinding, “Relax. If I were going to do something back, I'd have done it already.”

The words obviously weren't a comfort to Alois, who only curled in upon himself more, staring at Smile with barely veiled fear. That seemed to amuse Smile, who came as close as he ever did to actually smiling, despite his namesake.

“Well, that's not entirely true,” he sneered with a mean little laugh, “I already _did._ I can see you enjoyed your little trip to The Room.”

Alois startled at that, finally showing something other than fear. Joker wasn't sure what it was he saw in Alois' face then, surprise certainly, but something else too. When Alois said, “ _You_ had them take me there? But … how?” Joker identified it as sounding almost admiring.

“Faustus can be accommodating, especially when he's looking to please. At least when it comes to me. But you noticed that already.” Smile's lip curled wryly. “Take it as a warning. I'm rather attached to the other eye, I'd hate to lose that one too.”

Joker wasn't sure what he had expected next, but it was not Alois breaking down into a giggling fit. For the first time since he had arrived on the ward, Alois looked exactly his age, snorting childishly as though the threat was the funniest joke he'd ever heard. Smile waited him out, annoyance becoming obvious as his threat lost its bluster, but eventually Alois subsided and Smile could speak again.

“Come on,” Smile inclined his head, a demand to be followed, “You need to get that cut cleaned. If it gets infected, you'll be sent to the infirmary. You think The Room's bad, just wait until you see there.”

Alois observed Smile with blatant mistrust, “Why … are you helping me?”

Smile rolled his eye, still managing to make it scathing despite its effectiveness being halved, “Patients have to stick together, genius,” and then turned to walk away. It was about as warm as Smile generally got, Joker knew. The now one-eyed boy had not even glanced behind him, sure in the knowledge that Alois would be following. And follow he did, however uncertainly.

If you had told Joker then how attached to Smile that Alois would become, he wouldn't have believed it. Smile was hardly kind to him, more mocking than anything else, and comfort was not in his repertoire. Yet a friendship had formed, however unlikely, and one that had endured the years. Until now. Just as it had been Faustus' favour back then that had caused Alois to snap, it was that same blatant favouritism that had driven a wedge between them now. Unlike the past few years, however, Alois was not putting it aside, and Smile no longer cared enough to make even a token effort, it would seem.

Joker couldn't say that he liked Alois. Even if Smile had put the attack behind him – Joker had no doubt in his mind that there was some ulterior motive to that, in the first place – Joker could never quite forget it. There was a feral quality to Alois' anger, and it was the sort of anger that could never quite be tamed. It put them all at risk and that frightened Joker. And yet, Joker worried now. He saw them drifting, pushing away from each other like the opposite poles of a magnet, and he couldn't shake the concern.

Smile had people. He may not have wanted them, may have acted as though his and Soma's company was irritating and undesired, that even Freckles pushed her luck, but he never put forth more than an obligatory complaint about it. Whether he wanted them or not, Smile was not alone. He never had been, really. For all his aloofness, he had a quality that drew people in, even when his sharp tongue half-succeeded in keeping them at a distance.

Alois had no such quality. He was brash and unpredictable, capable of dangerous violence, and all the patients had brushed him off as not worth the effort. Even Joker had. The only one who had given him the time of day had been Smile, but he didn't even have that any more.

Alois was alone, and Joker couldn't find it in himself to be alright with that.

 

 

 

 

Dagger's singing was grossly out of key. To compare it to strangling a cat would have perhaps been too harsh, but something less fatal certainly, like yanking the unfortunate cat's tail. It was an old nursery rhyme they had heard time and time again, to some generic tune that didn't really match the syllables, and it was getting on everybody's last nerve.

“Shut ya hole, Dagger! I've 'eard better sound from a flushin' toilet,” Wendy snapped, whipping one of the couch cushions over at him. Joker tried not to roll his eyes, but it was hard work. Of course now Dagger was only screeching louder to annoy Wendy, skipping out of reach of any projectiles launched his way.

They'd been inside too long. There was nothing new to talk about. You could almost see the restless frustration tattooed upon their skin.

“Should I break this up, or …” Joker offered half-heartedly, about as enthusiastic as the cook sounds when enquiring into an inmate's last dinner. Wendy had bolted from her seat now, given chase, but there was none of the usual playfulness.

They were jumping the walls. Scratching away inside their skulls. Sometimes Joker thought it would be the boredom of all things that would finish them off.

“Nah, leave them to it,” Beast sounded as lively as he did, picking away at one of her nails, “Either he'll shut up or Wendy'll finally calm down. She's been impossible, this week.”

Wendy was always impossible these days, but Joker didn't bother to say it.

Looking away from the Benny Hill scene in front of him, Joker glanced over his shoulder towards Alois' bedroom door, firmly closed as it had been all morning. Well past noon now, well past the time Alois usually emerged, but no sign of the younger boy.

“Be back in a minute,” Joker said, peeling himself from the couch. He'd been waiting all morning but it didn't look like Alois was coming out under his own steam. Well, if the fight wasn't coming to him then Joker would have to go to the fight.

Raising his good hand to knock on the door, a sound from within gave Joker pause. Confusion pulling his face into a frown, he lowered his hand and leaned forward instead, trying to hear better through the wood. It was the low hum of conversation, the words indistinguishable yet the voice in full flow, Alois' soft tone carrying. He turned, took note of who was in the room, whose doors were closed, who he knew to be off the ward. It was a full house, everyone accounted for, so who was Alois talking to?

The worry in the pit of Joker's stomach was becoming something altogether more sickly. He rapped sharply on the door before the voice telling him to walk away started to sound even more reasonable than it already did. Instantly, the dull murmur through the wood ceased, as though somebody had pressed the mute button.

There was a brief scuffle from within, muffled footsteps heading his way, and the door finally opened. Alois barely peered out, the door held open only a crack, just enough to see wary blue eyes watching him.

“What?” No hello, no how are you. Not that Joker was expecting a warm reception, but the open hostility coming from the boy in waves was unwarranted. He looked as ready to slam the door in Joker's face as he was to talk to him.

“Hey.” Joker threw up a grin, as warm as he could muster, and stood back half a step. He had never cut an imposing figure – too short, too scrawny, and now too visibly weak – but he was trying to dial that down even further. Hand casually in his pocket, leaning away, giving Alois space. Everything about him was screaming _not a threat._ “Been a while since we last saw you. Just checkin' you're not dead or anythin'.”

The look Alois gave him could only be described as scathing, a look of disdain that would have done Smile proud.

“I'm alive,” he drawled in a tone you'd be more likely to hear from Smile than him, the words dripping in scorn. His lip twitched, as though he wanted to smile, and he gave a darting glance behind him.   
“Yep, I can see that,” Joker replied, trying not to sound as loathe to be having this conversation as Alois was. They were hardly the best of friends, but he couldn't help but be surprised by the degree of dislike he was finding here. Alois was hardly a prize himself.

“... Bye,” Alois said pointedly, making to close the door. Joker found himself blocking the way, jamming his foot between the door and the frame. Something wasn't right, something _really_ wasn't right. He didn't know what, but he couldn't just leave it at that. Whether he'd wanted it or not, the fact remained that Joker had a responsibility towards the other patients. If it had been one of the others, he wouldn't walk away so easily. He couldn't treat Alois as anything less than them.

“What are you – _move,”_ Alois huffed, pulling the door back to shove it against Joker's foot. Biting back a wince, Joker took the opportunity to look over his shoulder, to see his completely empty room.

“You've been cooped up in there all day. How about you come sit with us for a bit, kiddo?” Joker offered, ignoring the increased urgency of that voice in his head. _Walk away. This one's too far gone. Leave it._ It would have been so easy to listen to it, but would it be just as easy to sleep that night if he did?

It proved irrelevant, regardless, as Alois' look of mistrust only intensified. Was it that out of character, Joker wondered with a pang, for him to show an interest in Alois? Could Alois see nothing more in such an act than reason to be suspicious?

“I'd rather not,” Alois replied, edging Joker's foot out of the way and shoving the door closed before he could stop him.

For a moment, Joker just stood there and stared at the door, an uncomfortable churning in his stomach. Whether it was guilt or just concern, he didn't know, but it didn't seem to matter either way. As the murmuring behind the door started up again, Alois talking to thin air, it seemed to Joker that he had extended the olive branch that little bit too late.

Hating himself for it a little as he always did, Joker once again wondered if maybe Alois really did belong at St. Victoria's.

 

 

 

 

The chairs were designed to be just that little bit too small to effectively wedge under the door handle, but Alois tried it anyway, the illusion of a barricade good enough for him. He waited until he could no longer see the shadow through the crack under his door before he spoke again.

“Sorry about that.” Turning with a bright grin, Alois returned his attention back to Luka, sitting cross-legged on top of the sheets. His features, so similar to Alois' but softened by youth, were painted with a shock so extreme it would have seemed exaggerated on anybody else.

“Who was _that?”_ Luka whispered. He always seemed to whisper, Alois found, as though every word was a secret just for him. It was a stark contrast to the loud exuberance he remembered, but then, death changed everyone.

“Joker,” Alois shrugged, “Don't know what he wanted though. He never talks to me usually.”

Reclaiming his spot at the head of the bed, Alois settled himself against the pillow, encouraging Luka to lie back down with his head on Alois' knee. The warmth against his leg was a comfort, grounding and real, chasing away that wicked voice at the back of his mind that said things he didn't want to hear.

“But, his _arm.”_ Luka's eyes were wide, words so heavy with disbelief that it was a wonder they carried across the air between them. “What was wrong with it?”

It was only too easy to slip into the old habit. A story barely formed in his head before it fell from his lips, Alois concocted an explanation from thin air, a story of fantasy that would appeal to all of Luka's favourite storybook qualities.

“You have to promise not to tell,” Alois began, as he always did.

“Promise!” Luka cried, earnest.

“Because if you tell, the curse will spread.” A promise, a tantalising thread for his brother to pull at, and without fail, he did.

“What curse?” Wide-eyed, believing every word he was given. It was one of the things Alois had missed the most, the absolute single-minded attention he received, as though his words were the only truth that mattered, Alois the only thing in the world that counted. And he was, wasn't he? Right now, in that room, Luka existed solely for _him_. Defying all logic, Luka had come back just so that Alois wouldn't have to be alone any more, and no one could ever steal him away again.

“The demon's curse. No one knows exactly _why_ the demon came for Joker, or what Joker did to anger it so badly, but every year since they met, the curse has taken over bit by bit. At first, no one noticed, because it was inside stuff. He'd get in real bad moods, or get sad for no reason, and no one could see it. But then the curse got more powerful, and now you can _see_ it happening. It's burning him away. Bit, by bit, it'll go, until he's nothing but a skeleton!”

Just like Luka gave power to the lies Alois was throwing out by his faithful belief, he gave power to Alois, too. His very existence, seeing him there, hearing him, being able to touch him, it made Alois powerful in a way he had never been before at St. Victoria's. It was Alois who had brought Luka back to him through sheer force of will, by the power of his want. Why would he ever want to leave that room, give up that power he had never experienced before, lose the rapt attention he was being given for the first time in years? Outside that door, there was nothing for him. But inside, it was just him and Luka, like it had always been. Like it always should have been.

 

 

 

 

“Do you mind?”

Snake jolted as though he had been struck. Always timid, it seemed that quality had become exacerbated to its extreme, the man's eyes haunted as he looked up at Ciel. For all his usual lack of colour, there was a sickliness to him now, one that inspired the instinct to keep a distance lest whatever it was be contagious. Having already ignored that instinct and his own usual aversion to talking to people and just generally caring, Ciel stood his ground and gestured to the empty seat beside Snake's own.

After a hesitation so long that anyone else would have been insulted, Snake gave the barest incline of his head, so Ciel sunk into the armchair languidly.

It was loud in the leisure room that day. Joker and his usual lot were playing a game or arguing, difficult to tell the difference with them, while Soma shouted a colourful commentary from his perch on the other side of the room. Grell and Ronald were monitoring the ward, so naturally, they were worse than the actual patients, bickering over the artistic merit of the Titanic film. Secretly, Ciel agreed with Ronald that Leonardo Dicaprio being attractive didn't constitute a good film, but it would have taken a braver man than him to try and sail that against Grell.

With the noise being what it was, it was a wonder that Snake had braved the room at all, especially without his faithful shadow to keep him company. But then, maybe the noise was better than the silence of his empty room.

Ciel waited patiently, quiet coming easily to him. Snake was fiddling with something around his wrist, a touch-tarnished chain, with a fleur-de-lis pendant dangling perilously off its cheap clasp. The kind of trinket one would find in a supermarket goody bag, but one that Ciel knew Drocell had treated like the most valuable gold.

“Ash took him this morning,” Snake eventually murmured, voice soft and weary, “Said he might infect the rest of us.”

Ciel had assumed as much, but it was always better to hear it from the horse's mouth than to operate on assumptions. Though all it took was one look at Snake to see what was going on. Without Drocell at his side, he seemed like only half the picture, missing the broad outlines that contained his colours. He wasn't trying to hide his fragility at all, something that made Ciel uncomfortable despite himself. For all that they were broken by default, the patients usually took cares to hide it, put on fronts and appeared strong, at least to some degree. Snake was making no such effort, the one person he would have bothered to do so for now the reason he would have needed to in the first place, and when he next looked up at Ciel, it was with a plea in his pale eyes. For comfort, reassurance, neither of which Ciel knew how to give.

Instead of empty platitudes, Ciel just nodded, letting them lapse back into silence. When long enough had passed that it didn't feel like running away, he excused himself and retreated back to his bedroom. It was easy to pretend that he didn't notice Snake's disappointed gaze following him as he left.

 

 

 

 

“Grell has Ronald in a headlock,” Sebastian informed Ciel as he kicked the bedroom door shut behind him, cutting off the undignified squawking going on in the leisure room, “Something about Gangs of New York?”

“Don't ask, you don't want to know. Neither do I, for that matter.” Ciel tossed aside the dog-eared paperback, read so many times he could have recited it word for word by that point, to favour Sebastian with his attention instead. His nose wrinkled as an unpleasant but familiar smell followed Sebastian across the room. “What _is_ that?”

“Hm?” Sebastian seemed distracted. Stretched out on Ciel's bed, he looked in almost as bad a state as Snake had done earlier, pallid and whipcord tense. His brow was wrinkled, frustration or exhaustion, or possibly both. He was in his uniform, the button down shirt and slacks now heavily creased, but he hadn't been on the ward at all. It must have been a Ward V day, then. That explained the less than talkative mood, at least.

“Never mind.” Ciel wandered over to his desk, busying himself with pretending to rearrange things, just to put some distance between him and the pungent smell. He _knew_ that smell, that sense of deja vu dancing just beyond his memory's reach. “How did it go?”

“On a scale of one to ten? Eleven.” Even his voice sounded like it wanted to turn off the lights and go to sleep. “It was with Doctor today. Can't believe I ever thought he was decent. Tried to get me to burn them all day. No rhyme, no reason, just wanted me to scald them.”

“Did you?” Ciel asked.

That sparked a reaction.

“ _No,”_ Sebastian hissed, throwing him an affronted glare. A nerve had been hit, clearly. Not in the mood for any arguments, Ciel just shrugged, the closest thing to an apology one would get from him. “I just kept saying no, and he just kept demanding I do it. Got fed up when I didn't and started doing it himself.”

Ciel repressed the sudden urge to touch his back, hands curling into fists as the base of his spine tingled uncomfortably. He knew that smell, the smell of seared and melting flesh, the way it clung inside the nostrils sickly sweet. Now he'd recognised it, there was no trying to ignore the way it was filling the room, like water filling a glass to the brim.

“Sebastian, c'mere.” Sebastian sighed but followed him obediently into the bathroom. His eyebrows climbed up to his hairline when Ciel closed the door over behind them and said, “Clothes off, get in the bath.”

After a stunned moment of pause, Sebastian came back with a shit-eating grin, “Well, it's certainly an improvement on the lolly-pop trick, but there's something to be said for foreplay.”

“You're easy enough without foreplay,” Ciel tossed back, “But that's not what I meant. You're taking a shower. I can't have that smell around me, it's knocking me sick. Go on, get in. You can even use my soap.”

Sebastian's grin had dropped, the exhaustion back as though it had never left.” Well, aren't you good to me.” Despite his words and the less than happy tone, he did as he was told, stripping down with unnecessary flourish and climbing into the tub. His silhouette against the mucky white shower curtain looked awkward however, lacking in the usual grace Sebastian possessed, though that may have just been due to how aware he was that Ciel was making no moves to leave the bathroom. Not that he was keen on peeping, but if anyone heard his shower going and saw he wasn't in there, questions would be raised and assumptions that hit too close to the truth would be made.

True to Ciel's thoughts, Sebastian was only too aware that Ciel was still there, could probably see every move of his arms and shift of his body through the cheap plastic curtain. It was nothing like shyness he felt at that knowledge. For all the many things Sebastian was, shy had never been one of them, and he quite liked the lingering looks Ciel had begun giving him since their little liaisons had begun almost two months ago. No, not shyness, but definitely a sense of discomfort. Any other time and he would have continued the salacious comments, goading Ciel into backhanded attempts at flirtation, egging him on into climbing into the shower with him.   
But not today. Today, his head was too full of the Ward V patient's screams. Any thought of touching Ciel was twisting into his hand holding a scorching metal rod against Ciel's skin instead. Sebastian may not have buckled beneath Doctor's insistence and done as ordered, but the patient's hollow eyes looked at him with unrestrained fear anyway, and even that was better than the utter emptiness of the other patients, already too far gone. He hadn't held them down and scorched their flesh, but their screams had been just as much for him as they had been for Doctor anyway.

Skin scrubbed a flushed and tender pink, Sebastian finally shut off the shower, fingers pruned and the air around him billowing with steam. He made to pull back the curtain, accept the towel he could see Ciel's shadow waiting to offer, but found himself pausing. The curtain was like a barrier, all of a sudden. A safe shield that he was hiding behind. It made it easy for the words to slip out of him, now that he didn't have to see the look on Ciel's face when he heard them.

“I thought about it.” The words were little more than a whisper, a shameful confession that barely pierced the barrier of the shower curtain. “Patient V2, it was. A woman. She must have been pretty once. She's a screamer. Loudest of the lot, even when you aren't touching her at all. I actually _considered_ it, Ciel. Just … hurting her, for no reason at all, just so that I could get off that ward.”

Sebastian wasn't sure what to expect as a response, telling another patient something like that. Yelling, disgust, to be kicked out on his ear and told to never speak to Ciel again. They were all likely, each as justified a response as the last, but Ciel did none of those things.

Pulling back the curtain, Ciel perched on the side of the bath, paying no mind to Sebastian's bareness. He wasn't even looking at him, eye trained on the far wall with a sightless vacancy.

“Nothing wrong with considering things.” Despite the weight of the subject, Ciel's voice was casual, flippant even. “ _I_ consider things all the time. A few years ago, I seriously considered smothering Soma with one of the couch cushions, just so that he'd finally leave me alone. He was always chattering away, seemed the only way to get him to _shut up._ I once stole one of Faustus' pens – hid it in the waistband of my pants – and sat there for hours considering jamming it into the eye I had left. And when you first got here, I considered using you to get out of here. Didn't even care how. I would have used you as a goddamn trampoline to jump over the wall, if it came down to that. I didn't care what it would have meant for you, if they'd have locked you up in my place. Didn't consider the consequences at all.

“Thinking about things doesn't hurt anyone, Sebastian. It even helps, having a back-up plan, a safety net just in case everything goes to hell. Knowing there's an alternative keeps you sane. There's nothing wrong with it, so long as that's all it is – a _thought.”_

Sebastian slid down to sit in the tub, meeting Ciel's look when he finally took his eye off the wall. There was understanding there, certainly, but more than anything, it was a warning. The threat in his expression was belied by the gentleness as Ciel threaded his hand through Sebastian's hair, combing the wet strands back from his face.

“The point is, you _didn't_ harm V2. You thought about it, yes, maybe even wanted to, but you _didn't._ That right there is the distinction. That's what separates you from the rest of the staff.”

Ciel's hand tightened in his hair, tugging almost painfully, and Sebastian heard the unspoken end of that sentence; _keep it that way._ Biting back the smirk itching at his lips, he let himself slump forward, resting his forehead against Ciel's back. He felt Ciel tense all over, a lick of satisfaction going through him when the tension was forced away and Ciel didn't move, didn't push off. He did remove his hand, twisted behind his back now that Sebastian had moved, letting it rest on his shoulder instead.

It wasn't with the same trepidation as before that Sebastian spoke again.

“This wasn't the first time I've thought about it. That place is like _hell,_ Ciel. The heat, the smells, all that screaming. Everything about it tears at you, gets under your skin. Even though I'm out of there now, I can still _hear_ them. I think about it, and I think about making them be quiet, that maybe then the screaming will _stop._ And – it scares me. That I'm capable of thinking that. And I wonder if that's how the other staff got started. Maybe they started off like me, but they wanted to stop the screaming too? And I have to wonder, how long until the thoughts become something dangerous, until what I'm considering starts to seem less monstrous?”

Ciel still didn't pull away, fingers fiddling with the collar of Sebastian's shirt restlessly, but he was silent for a while before he spoke again. The threat was gone from his words by then, and with it, worry that Sebastian hadn't even realized he was holding evaporated too.

“I can understand that. It's … _difficult,_ to be teetering on that line. I've been wavering between the two extremes for longer than I can remember.” Ciel twisted around to look at him, something in his expression that Sebastian couldn't place. “Not being able to trust yourself, it's the worst thing these people can do to you. But it doesn't mean you've lost the game just yet. It's just a matter of finding something external to depend on, something you can trust to ground you.”

Sebastian caught Ciel's wrist, stilling his restless hand, holding it loosely enough that he could pull away if he wanted to, “I don't want to become like them, Ciel.”

“So don't,” Ciel replied, as though it could ever have been as simple as that. A pensive look flashed over his face then, something Sebastian would have called almost mischievous on anyone else, before he found himself flat on his back in the bath with Ciel straddling his naked stomach. His clothes darkened with dampness wherever their bodies met, but Ciel didn't seem to notice, scanning Sebastian's body thoughtfully before deciding on his left hand, lifting it up as though inspecting it.

Then, without so much as a token hesitation, Ciel leaned forward and bit into his hand. Sebastian had been bitten many times, in many different places, but the top of his hand was a new one. Also new was the viciousness of the bite, not the playful or flirtatious kind in the least. As Ciel's teeth sunk into his skin, Sebastian, no stranger to a bit of pain, found himself yelping in a distinctly unmanly fashion. Blood budded from the crescent welts, streaming down his arm, a concerning amount for a simple bite. The skin was well and truly broken, and some of the blood was smeared across Ciel's lips as he smiled, leaning back with an air of satisfaction. His lips stained a ghastly red, he looked downright sinister.

“You won't become one of them, Sebastian. You're not allowed to. I got to you first. And any time you think you're forgetting that, I want you to look at your hand and remember. This is my claim.”

Sebastian could do nothing but stare for a long moment, tracking the drop of blood slipping over Ciel's chin hungrily, before letting out a shaky laugh. He leaned forward, bringing their faces close enough that he could feel Ciel's breath on his skin, see the alarmed twitch when Ciel thought he was going to try and kiss him. Instead, he let a hand hover around the back of Ciel's neck, wanting to touch, to pull them together, but resisting the urge, and swiped his tongue across the blood stained lower lip.

A mockery of a kiss, the best thing for the two of them.

 

 


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoops, forgot to post the chapters here too, sorry! and sorry for the chapter spam if you're subscribed. hope you like the chapters!

Sebastian had never experienced first hand what it was like to be led to the electric chair. An obvious statement, considering he was still breathing. Yet he fancied he knew the same anxiety, the pressure of the dread pulsing against his skin with every step he took that brought him closer to the door of Ward V. Flanked by Doctor and Ash, one rolling along in front and the other dogging his steps behind, they were like sentinels. Running away was a dramatic and not entirely tempting thought, but even if Sebastian were considering it, being surrounded such as he was would have made it impossible.

Ten steps away and he imagined he could already feel the heat of the room. Sweltering within, worse than a crowded subway train, the air stale. The way the patients moved around, staggering in circles inside their cages and pacing restlessly, the sweat clinging to them like a second skin.

Eight steps away and he could smell them. Their rank scent, weeks and months of built up filth, the dirt so congealed it may well have been part of their flesh now. Everything they touched was tainted by the stank, like a hand-print of waste. They left their mark upon the floors, upon their glass confines, upon Sebastian himself. A mark he scrubbed himself red raw trying to wash away.

Six steps and the claustrophobia was settling in already. The sound proof walls, that single door with its mechanical click that sounded so final every time he walked through it, the heat and the smell and the noise so dizzying and impossible to escape.

_Breathe._

Sebastian had to remind himself to do so frequently these days, a once thoughtless action now more and more deliberate. Breathe deep and breathe slowly, the only way to keep himself from letting the panic take over. If the panic ever did take over, he dreaded to think what he would do. Like a cornered animal, he would lash out because he couldn't run, not with Ash at his heels and a locked door in his way. But who would he lash out at? Doctor, Ash, or the acceptable targets?

_Breathe._

Four steps away and one of Sebastian's hands came up to hold the other, feeling the stiff cotton of the bandage. The adhesive pulled at the fine hairs there, a sharp pinch every now and then. His left hand throbbed dully, two days after Ciel's bite but no less painful just yet, and he focused on that stingingly hot pulsing. The skin was torn in a morse code crescent, stuttering marks a scabbing red, and framed by mottled purples and blues.

No masochist, the violent bite should have angered him, but Sebastian took comfort in the physical evidence of an ally. This was what Ciel had been after himself, Sebastian was certain now, when he had clumsily propositioned him all those months ago. He hadn't understood then but now it was clear, made absolute sense to him. The bite was an anchor in the tumultuous waters of Ward V.

Two steps away and Sebastian's head was clearing now. Focusing on the feel of the bandage's cotton threads catching on his overly long nails, he was able to step into the ward without the sudden wall of smell knocking him sick. The screams were an abrupt assault, no longer muted by the walls and door, and he clenched his hand tighter around the bandage. Tight enough to amp up the throb into a sharp pain, strong enough to claw his attention back and keep him cool headed as he was fully submerged into Ward V.

“I think we'll have Patient V6 today,” Doctor decided cheerily, smiling up at Ash as he passed. The more Sebastian was exposed to this man, the more he grew to loathe him, to a greater degree than the rest of the staff. He was starting to beat out even Faustus. With his perpetually sunny disposition contrasting disarmingly with his brutal actions and the enjoyment he found in the pain he inflicted, Doctor was easily the most disturbing of the staff thus far. His smile was a wicked thing, a Pavlov's trigger for Sebastian to fear what would come next.

Ash, as he always did when made to come onto the ward, was struggling to maintain a level of cleanliness despite his surroundings. He touched nothing if he could help it, and if he couldn't, only with latex gloves protecting his hands from the muck. He wore a white medical mask strung across his face, much the same as the one he had worn when Sebastian had played sick all that time ago, must have had a healthy stock of them tucked away in that sterile office of his. It was with a look of disgust that he clamped V6 around the throat with one gloved hand, pulling her out of the corner she was huddled in, and flung her onto the floor at their feet.

V6 didn't make a sound, unlike the rest of the banshees. When she looked up at them, her eyes were vacant, sunken into her dirty face. If he looked closely, Sebastian could almost make out her features – the woman appeared young, couldn't be any older than him, and looked to be Asian – but he cut those thoughts off short. The last thing he needed to start doing was differentiating between the patients, humanizing them in his thoughts. Easier to just think of them as their numbers.

“I am not an unsympathetic man, Sebastian. I know you're thinking of me as some kind of monster, and I can understand why you would think that in your current mind set, but I hope to show you one day how what we are doing in this room is beneficial, not only to those in the ward above but on a global scale,” Doctor was saying, as earnest as he always was, having eyes only for Sebastian when speaking to him, “These patients are long past any hope of rehabilitation. No family members to miss them, not enough sense of self to even recognize themselves in the mirror, they're a necessary sacrifice. But! As I said, I am not unsympathetic to your plight. You still see them as people. Our mistake was throwing you into the deep end and expecting you to swim straight away. I see now that we need to ease you in.”

V6 didn't cower away from them as all the others did. Nor did she let aggression take over, fling herself at them with mouth torn by a snarl and hands mimicking claws. It was her stillness that Sebastian found most disturbing of all. Vacant eyes stared up at him, not beseechingly or even accusingly, simply empty. The lights were on, but there was no one home. For all that Sebastian hated when the patients fought back, still having enough will buried within them to do so despite what Doctor believed, it was much better than V6 and her broken apathy.

Had she retreated somewhere within her fractured mind, Sebastian wondered as Ash retrieved a pair of scissors from Doctor's bag, somewhere she was safe from the likes of them?

“It's all about baby steps. So first thing is first; we need to correct your mistake. Ash?”

Ash obliged to the unspoken command, offering the scissors to Sebastian as though they were some grand gift. The steel tarnished and the blades crusted with some sort of muck, he dreaded to think of just what origin, it was hardly a present you would write a _thank you_ card for. It was only after pulling on latex gloves to match Ash's that he accepted the scissors. Even through the gloves, his hands tingled, crawled with the filth of what may have been done to people with that instrument. They were heavy in his hands, a guilty weight.

“As you can see, Ward V does not exactly match the main ward in terms of hygiene. It's not as much of a priority down here. But if it would put your conscience at ease, we can make a few changes. Such as this one – I want you to cut Its hair,” Doctor instructed, not deigning to so much as glance at V6, slumped on the floor before them and staring.

Sebastian stared back, unable to look away from V6. There was a fear in him then. A groundless certainty that the moment he broke their eye contact, she would lunge for him. With more presence of mind than any of them believed her to have, she would steal the scissors away and plunge them into his throat. To protect herself, to preserve her long dark hair, and to take his life before he could shear her like a goddamn sheep.

“I don't see how that would help cleanliness,” Sebastian replied belatedly, voice a pleasant monotone. He had long since mastered the art of talking to his 'superiors' with respect he did not feel. “A bit of a mopping up might.”

Ash looked distinctly unamused but Doctor gave a booming laugh, as though Sebastian had told him the funniest joke he had ever heard. It was disconcerting how much he seemed to genuinely like Sebastian, but more troubling was how much Sebastian was sure he would have liked Doctor if the circumstances were different. How could such a monster appear so ordinary?

“True, true! But as you can see, the length is an issue. We can hardly trust them to bathe themselves and it's too risky for us to do it. All sorts of filth gets caught in there.” Doctor grimaced, finally glancing at V6, but only for a short moment. Sebastian would have liked to think that it was guilt that made him so reluctant to see her, but from the look on his face, it was more likely due to simple disgust. “Cut it, Sebastian. To the scalp, if you don't mind.”

There was no ignoring that it was an order now, not a request, and Sebastian's mind strayed once more to the empty cage in the corner of the room. V6's hair really was long, trailing along the floor where she sat, knotted and clumped, the ends frayed where it looked as though she had chewed on them. Her eyes were still on his, as vacant as ever. Yet Sebastian imagined he saw something in them. A plea to not do it, what appeared on the surface a minor act but that would only trigger increasingly awful things. There was no such thought there, of course, no thought at all left in V6, but in that moment, Sebastian wanted to see it more than anything. To know that there was still a functioning mind in there somewhere.

“It shouldn't struggle but just to be on the safe side, Ash, if you wouldn't mind?” Doctor gestured and Ash followed without question, his gloved hand forcing V6's head to the ground. Bonelessly she followed, letting herself be pressed to the floor, no resistance in her body at all. Prostate before Sebastian now, he found himself inexplicably relieved to no longer have to meet her eyes.

Without that stare into which he projected accusation and a spark of life that he knew wasn't truly there, it was only too easy for Sebastian to kneel down beside her, lift a greasy strand of hair and sever it. Scissors in his right hand and the bandaged bite on his left, he continued to cut away while clenching the injury as tightly as he could, relishing the sore burn of it. Focusing so single-mindedly on the pain, he managed to tune out Doctor's exuberant voice, the happiness that Sebastian had finally followed an order, and his own shame at that same fact.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Nimble fingers slotted the creased and ruined pages back into the grooves of the notebook's spine. With no glue to secure them, they refused to stay in place, threatening to slip beyond the reach of the leather binding with every slight movement. Only a few of the pages had actually been written on, the white now stained with his chicken-scratch handwriting, the words sparse and more illegible as the journal entries went on. Even now, as he held the tip of his pen poised over the first ruined blank page he found, his hand shook with tremors. He didn't notice his shaking, giving the pen a frown as though it were at fault for the scribbled mess his thoughts had become, and continued writing.

Curled up on the bed at Alois' side was Luka, dozing fitfully, snoring louder than anyone his size had any right to. The noise used to keep Alois up at night, but once it was gone, he hadn't been able to sleep through the night for months. With a fond smile, he smoothed Luka's hair away from his face and turned back to the ruined notebook resting on his raised knees.

It had been a gift from Claude and one he had ruined in a fit of anger. He had regretted it immediately, had destroyed nothing of Claude and Ciel's bond but all of his few belongings, and he had been trying to piece the notebook back together ever since. A fruitless effort without glue or sellotape. He knew if he asked Claude for them, Claude would probably acquiesce, but only once he knew what it was for. Letting Claude see what Alois had done to the only gift he had given him was deterrent enough, never mind the chance that he would see the things Alois had written over the past few months.

Most incriminating of all; _My dead brother is back._

Just the fact that Alois acknowledged how incriminating it was meant that he wasn't too far gone, he repeated internally, not for the first time since Luka's return. If he still had the mental capability to recognize how dangerous his delusion was then there was certainly enough left of his mind to risk indulging himself for a while. It was only too easy to rationalize it; everyone else lied through their teeth to him, so why couldn't he do it himself? When Luka became common place, something that no longer made him feel wrong down to his bones, only then would he go to Claude and confess the downward spiral he felt himself plummeting upon.

_MY BROTHER IS DEAD. THIS IS NOT REAL._

The reminders filled the page, the same sentence printed in capitals again and again, until the ink stained the side of his hand and his index finger was dinted from holding the pen so long. Alois had refused to let himself dwell upon that fact from the moment Luka had disappeared from his side, but now, with that warmth curled up next to him and that annoying snoring encroaching upon the silence, it didn't feel like the end of the world any more. The words were just that, facts he had to keep, even as he let himself believe the opposite.

After all, what was _fake_ about the way Luka smiled for him? There was nothing but honesty in the words they shared, the jokes and laughs. The way Luka hung on every word of Alois' stories was as sincere today as it had been five years ago. Luka was more real than anyone beyond his bedroom door. More real than Ciel and his empty reassurances, more real than Claude and the hollow promises he gave, and certainly more real than Joker and his sudden _concern._

Alois' pen paused as the thought evolved, darkened.

It was only too easy to pretend that that was the end all of it, but his mind had always been his greatest antagonist, and it refused to leave the loose thread unpulled. For all that the personality and attitude was a perfect replica of the Luka he remembered, there were discrepancies that crept upon him. Clothes that never changed or became dirtied, not wrinkling or creasing as they should have done when Luka sat a certain way or they hugged. A boyish face untouched by time, the years he had been gone leaving no mark upon him, but having changed Alois in a contrast that couldn't easily be ignored. The most disconcerting of all, the one that knocked Alois sick from the sheer reality of it, was the uncharacteristic snarls and sudden bursts of rage that would possess the boy. Of the brothers, it had never been Luka who had been prone to anger.

_MY BROTHER IS DEAD. THIS IS NOT REAL._

_MY BROTHER IS DEAD. THIS IS NOT REAL._

_MY BROTHER IS DEAD. THIS IS NOT RE ---_

Alois' eyelids drooped as he continued to scribble the same words on a clean page. A good two hours had passed since he had been doing this for the sake of the reminder. Now the monotonous action of writing was simply to chase away much needed sleep. For all the genuine concerns there were over Luka, the one that worried Alois the most was the irrational fear of falling asleep beside him and awaking alone, Luka gone once more.

One could only fight sleep for so long, however, and a short while later found the pen stilled and Alois falling into a doze. When he awoke a few hours later, the high noon sun reaching in through the curtainless window, it was with an immediate spike of alarm that made him feel nauseas. He was alone in the bed, the sheets cold beside him, no one else in the room.

“Luka?”

Rising from bed, the notebook fell from his lap carelessly, the papers scattering once more. At least four pages were covered with the reminder, front and back, a written confession that could be the noose around his neck if it fell into the wrong hands. Alois didn't give it a second thought, stepping over the papers with disregard as he darted over to the bathroom, the only place Luka could be hiding.

“Luka!”

The bathroom light was blinding. The bathroom was empty.

Just as the panic began to surge, a small voice called from the bedroom, “Jim?” Luka was there. Peering blearily over the edge of the bedsheet, his hair a rat's nest and his face still slack with sleep, Luka was there where he had not been a moment before. Alois could have cried from relief.

“What's wrong?” Luka asked as Alois pulled him into a hug, chin quivering even as he told himself actually crying would be a silly thing to do. There was nothing to cry over in that moment.

“I thought you'd gone,” Alois admitted, words shaky with a self-deprecating laugh.

Luka shared the laughter, not unkindly, and hugged him back just as hard.

“I won't leave you again, Jim, I promise.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

The skin on Sebastian's hands still itched with a persistent crawl even after he left Ward V. The skin chalky from the powder inside the gloves, it took more self-control than it should have to resist the urge to scratch away at them. There was no blood spilt, Sebastian reminded himself against, and no screams either. He had not hurt V6 at all. He had even helped her, in a way. Without such long hair, she would be much cleaner. No damage done at all, and Doctor off his back, at least for a little while. Win, win.

The excuses rang hollow.

Sebastian's time on Ward V had been much shorter than usual. Unsurprising since the hours of refusing orders and arguing with Ash, or whoever else was assigned to monitor him, had been omitted. It left him plenty of time to go to the main ward and see Ciel, but first, he decided to make a detour to the Infirmary. Absently he wondered if he would see Hannah there. She had not been a presence at the Institute for months. In fact, the last time he could remember seeing her for sure had been in the infirmary itself, having taken her there after Alois attacked her. Had she been taken to a real hospital? Knowing St. Victoria's, her absence was nothing so innocent.

The triplets were the only staff in the infirmary when Sebastian arrived. Sorting through the patient's evening doses, none of them paid him any mind when he walked in. He ignored them too, making a beeline for the one occupied bed.

Drocell gave a wet and rattling cough, a sharp and raw sound. Eyes sunken and hair hanging in greasy tendrils around his face, lips chapped and nose red, he was whiter than the walls of the infirmary itself. _Go and see if he really is ill,_ Ciel had told him the night before, and seeing him now, there was no doubt as to the genuineness of his illness. Sebastian would be able to report back with relief. What Ciel would have done if Drocell _hadn't_ been ill, he could only speculate, but any other rescue missions were the furthest thing from safe. Ward V had been punishment enough after their last jaunt into misguided heroics. The empty cage at the end of Ward V was only too conspicuous for its emptiness.

“Sebastian?” Drocell sounded worse than he looked, each word a razor against his tender throat. While he didn't look surprised to see Sebastian, he didn't look particularly happy either. The title of Staff was a heavy stigma to hold, despite his repeated actions to the contrary.

“Your friends are worried,” Sebastian said by way of hello, pulling a chair over to the bedside. Friend was probably a strong word, and he doubted Ciel's worry was actually over Drocell's well-being, but the guarded look he was receiving convinced him to try and play nice. “So I said I'd pop in. What's the diagnosis?”

Drocell didn't look convinced, voice clipped when he replied coldly, “Flu after a treatment.”

A treatment. Sebastian couldn't help but be curious. If what he was ordered to do on Ward V were considered treatments for the patients beyond help, what treatments were given to the patients they were supposedly trying to cure? His open curiosity was not helping Drocell's mistrust, that much was clear, but Sebastian couldn't help but inquire regardless.

“They wanted me to tell them things. Things that I know aren't true. But they didn't want the truth, they wanted me to believe _their_ truth,” every word was grudgingly given, Drocell's gaze accusing, as though it had been Sebastian himself who had done the deed, “So they tied a cloth over my face and poured water on it. I couldn't breathe. And they kept doing it until I gave them the answer they wanted.”

Sebastian frowned, “So you told them the things they wanted to hear anyway?”

Drocell bristled at the tone, more denigrating than he had intended it to be, and reiterated, “I couldn't _breathe._ I would have said anything to make it stop.”

“And giving them exactly what they wanted in the process,” Sebastian shook his head as though disappointed, “What was it they were trying to get you to say?”

Sebastian could see Drocell shut down by inches and knew that he had gotten all the answers he was going to from him. He was more displeased by that than he would have expected. Did it really matter, at the end of the day, what fabrications they were making about Drocell? Sebastian had barely ever said two words to the man before today. It made no difference to him in the long run. Yet as they shared their stunted goodbyes and he left the infirmary, the persistent itch spread along his skin, inching from his hands to cover the rest of him. Restlessness, frustration and annoyance. They spread like an infection until there wasn't a bit of him not infested by them.

The bite on his hand stung as his fists clenched and he tried to focus on it, the stretch of the broken skin, the slight cracking of what little scabs there were, the pull of the bandage's adhesive on fine hairs, but it didn't work like it had last time. It only made him think.

_We're not indestructible._

He was Staff, as much as any of the others. Even if he didn't take pleasure in torture and delude himself into thinking he was doing good,he still wore the uniform, still got to leave the Wards at the end of the day. He was Staff, and he was not infallible. A patient had bitten him and he had bled. He still felt the pain of it. He was human, they were _all_ nothing but flesh and blood, so why? Why did Drocell, as big as any of the rest of them, cower and grovel instead of fighting back?

None of them were children. Ciel, at seventeen, was the youngest, and Sebastian had seen his strength. The moment he had felt cornered, all five foot seven of Ciel had taken down the bigger and physically stronger Agni without a moment's hesitation. If it hadn't been for Sebastian, he could have throttled Agni to death that night. If Ciel could do that, the youngest and so prone to illness of one kind or another, then surely they all could. For pity's sake, Alois had buried his goddamn finger in a person's eye on Sebastian's very first day, and in doing so had brought the Institute grinding to an absolute stop. Was that not power of a different kind?

They were _capable._ They had the strength and the motivation, without a shadow of a doubt. So _why,_ Sebastian puzzled with mounting judgement, why did they play the victims, let themselves be bullied and broken as though there was no other option? There _was_ another option, there always had been. A shove, a fist, a weapon at the very worst, there was always another option.

It was _pathetic._

Drocell lay there, sick as a dog, blaming the people he had allowed to waterboard him. But no, it was completely out of the question that he fight against them, that he not let them hurt him. They were only humans, as temporary and damageable as him! He claimed to have told them whatever they wanted in order to make it stop, but a well-aimed punch would have had just the same effect, if he only had the good sense to do it.

The closer Sebastian drew to the main ward, letting his thought's plummet continue, the angrier he became.

It was the patients that had put him in this position. Sebastian could never have claimed to be a particularly nice man, no, but nor was he a bad one. On the black and white spectrum, he was a firm and steady grey. Even so, he didn't do bad things. He had never hurt people. He had never told anything more than a white lie. He had never stolen a thing. The only thing he had done was to accept a friend's recommendation and apply for a job. His only crime was trying to make his own way in the world, to earn honest money. What was so terrible about that, so deserving of this retribution? Yet now he was being ordered to hurt innocent people under the guise of helping them, innocent people who wouldn't make the slightest move to defend themselves, landing him with all the responsibility of what happened, while all he could think about was the overhanging threat of what had been done to Finny and that empty cage on Ward V.

By the time Sebastian arrived on the ward, he was inexplicably seething. He strode straight into Ciel's bedroom, either not noticing or ignoring the sharp look he was given by Grell, but knowing that it would make it back to Angela before the day was out. He didn't even notice that Ciel hadn't actually been in his bedroom in the first place until he trailed in after him, looking the closest to concerned that he ever came.

“What's happened?” Ciel demanded, not even scowling when Sebastian claimed the bed instead of the chair. Flopped across the mattress with his shoes on the sheets, it was usually more than enough for a reprimand, but this time, Ciel held his tongue. Picking battles was a finely tuned skill.

“Popped by the infirmary,” Sebastian announced offhandedly, “Drocell _is_ sick but he'll probably be back in a few days time. Nothing to batten down the hatches over.”  
“And?”

Sebastian looked at him from the corner of his eye, “And what?”

“And something else is clearly bothering you – did he throw up on your shoes?” Ciel asked, gesturing at Sebastian like he was pointing at a literal dark cloud above his head, “I'm not seeing why Drocell being ill has got you looking so menstrual.”

“And nothing.” Instead of snapping, Sebastian's voice was perfectly amicable, which only made Ciel more positive that something _had_ happened to get under his skin. “Nothing's happened.”

Ciel rolled his eye, “ _Oh,_ so we're lying now. Okay.” Nodding his head, he went on in a saccharine tone, words so heavy with sarcasm that they could have been used as blunt weapons. “Did you know? You're a patient here too. Plot twist, I know. And I'm actually in leagues with the Chairmen. It's all a ruse.”

“Hysterical,” Sebastian said, deadpan, “You should have been a comedian.”

“Grell's really in love with Angela,” Ciel replied, “You're just his beard.”

Sebastian sat up straight with the beginnings of a glare battling the forced nonchalance from his face. “I hadn't pegged you as the type to want to talk about feelings. Will we be braiding each others hair soon, too?”

“I don't want to talk about _feelings_ ,” Ciel spat the word like a curse, “But what would you rather talk about, the Ashes? Are we done with this now, because you have to get out in about five minutes. So you can either carry on being a passive-aggressive bastard, or you can just tell me what happened. The hair braiding is entirely optional.”

They glared at one another for a long moment, but as it usually was, Sebastian was the first to give ground, looking away with a sigh. When he answered, it was little more than a murmur, a question to himself rather than to Ciel, “Why don't you fight?”

Ciel heard nonetheless and looked confused, prompting Sebastian to elaborate.

“I mean, I've seen you. You're not helpless, you're not weak. I have seen countless times that you are smarter than the lot of them. Yet you go to your little shrink sessions without question. You behave and keep your head down like the cowed little boy you are. I saw you overpower Agni with your bare hands yet you're terrified of a goddamn _room._ A room full of nothing threatening, just mirrors! Believe it or not, you're not _that_ scary to look at, Ciel.”

Ciel's face had gone blank at the first mention of The Room, which effectively masked his confusion. There was anger in Sebastian's voice, anger at _him,_ and he couldn't understand where it had come from. It was misplaced, he was certain. He was one of the few acceptable targets for it, one of two or three people at most that Sebastian could rant at and avoid severe consequences. Regardless, he found himself bristling, and even as a rational voice repeated to him that it was misplaced anger to be dealt with carefully, he still didn't like it being directed at him.

He managed to hold his own temper with more difficulty than he would have liked, asking calmly, “Sebastian, what do you see when you look in a mirror?”

Sebastian blew out a breath exasperatedly, “We've had this conversation before; I say my reflection, you insult my hair. We have come full circle here.”

Ciel shook his head, replying shortly, “Not this time.” He dropped into the desk chair with a sudden boneless exhaustion. Most of the time, he looked untouched by St. Victoria's, infallible in a way Sebastian could only hope to emulate. But sometimes, in moments like this, the soul deep weariness slipped through the cracks.

“You are lucky. To be able to look at your reflection and think, _“Yes, that's me.”_ To not doubt it even for a second. I envy that certainty. I haven't had it for a long time. You can't even begin to understand how terrifying a mirror is when you don't know yourself any more. There's nowhere you can turn in The Room to escape your own eyes, and even when you close them, you just _know_ that this … thing with your face is still looking at you, watching you, judging you. Your reflection knows _everything,_ Sebastian, and that is horrifying to me. I don't see myself in the mirror any more. What I see... I don't even know what to call that thing that's looking back at me, but I will _not_ let myself become It. It is _not_ me and I won't let that change. You can laugh and make snide comments all you like, but unless you've been locked in that room with nothing but It to keep you company, you have _no_ right to tell me it's unworthy of my fear.”

Sebastian had the good grace to drop his eyes for a moment, as though regretting bringing it up at all, and under normal circumstances, he would have let the conversation drop too. But not today. Today he was seething, today he needed to understand.

“Fine. You're right. I don't understand that and I don't particularly want to. But you still haven't answered the question – _why don't you fight?”_

Ciel gave a little burst of incredulous laughter.

“You don't think I'm fighting?”

“No, you're not.” Something in Sebastian snapped then, a tether pulled that bit too tight, and he raged on, “You're just letting them do whatever they want and I know you could do something, you could _all_ do _something,_ but you're all just sitting around and waiting for someone to save you. And I think it's pathetic. You're pathetic for letting yourselves be the victims, and they're pathetic for letting themselves become exactly what Angela and Faustus and all the rest of them wanted them to become ---”

The tirade was brought to an abrupt halt as Ciel finally had enough of it, strode over and gave Sebastian a hard slap across the face. His cheek flushed an immediate red, his silence a stunned one. Of all the reactions he had expected, a slap was not one of them.

“If you're done,” Ciel said coldly. His disdain eased as he went on, fortunately. “I get it. Feeling helpless is one of the worst feelings in the world, but getting yourself all worked up about it isn't going to help. I won't lie, your position is just as bad as mine now. You're under their thumb, you are St. Victoria's whipping boy just as much as the rest of us are, and there's not a damn thing you can do about it. But don't you dare blame us. We didn't do this to you. I _understand._ You want the experimental patients to fight back, right?”

The haze of red faded from Sebastian's vision and in its place was immediate regret for his outburst. He hadn't realized how tightly wound up he was until he came spinning loose. His cheek stung hotly, and while a part of him was concerned over how fond he was becoming of being assaulted, he was grateful for the grounding of it.

Sebastian was suddenly hesitant to look up. If he saw even a flash of pity on Ciel's face then, he wasn't sure he would be able to take it. He didn't need pity, not from a patient, certainly not from Ciel. After the silence was drawn out for that moment too long, he forced his head up. It was with relief that he saw nothing but impatience in Ciel then. Impatience, annoyance, the only concern there over wondering if he had slapped Sebastian so hard that the brain cells controlling speech had been knocked loose. That was more like it, that equal footing, that return to equilibrium.

Sebastian found his voice once again.

“It would make it much less … _easy,”_ Sebastian confessed, shame in every word, “You said that I could consider hurting them all I wanted so long as I didn't actually do it. So I do and it helps. And it's not the imagining hurting them that helps. It's thinking about what it would mean for me if I did. Doctor, Ash and that lot off of my back, not having to second-guess every single thing I do and say, feeling at least a bit safer. I'm selfish, Ciel, I'll be the first to admit it. I don't want to end up like Finny, and knowing that hurting those patients is the only thing that can keep me from ending up like him is making it far too tempting. And I just think, if they don't even care enough to fight for the sake of themselves, then why shouldn't I? _I_ still care enough about myself. I don't want to die, or worse, end up like of them.”

Ciel nodded, replying simply, “You're scared.”

“I am _not_ scared,” Sebastian snapped, unjustly offended, “But I can't keep saying no to them, Ciel. It's not fear, it's instinct. I just know that if I keep saying no to them, it's my ass on the line. I won't let myself be the next Peter.”

Ciel replied as though he hadn't heard, obviously still stung from Sebastian's accusation, “You said I wasn't fighting. That's not remotely true. I may not be using my fists but the last thing I'm going to let myself be is the victim here. You don't have to throw punches to fight and I'd rather break a mind than a bone.”

“Yes, very poetic,” Sebastian sneered, “But I'm not really following you.”

Ciel looked prepared to give him another slap.

“What I'm trying to say is that we fight in whatever way we can here. I prefer to keep my hands clean. I can't give them any more ammunition to use against me, so strategy is all I have. But you, the fact that you _can_ resist _is_ your fighting. You're not helpless, you're defying them and there's not a damn thing they can do about it.”

Only yesterday that would have been enough to salve his wounds, but even before Ciel had finished speaking, Sebastian could feel the phantom weight of rusty scissors in his palm and the chalky feel of gloves that did nothing to keep his hands clean. V6 staring up at him blankly, not resisting, making it so easy to do as he was told. Ciel was so confident that Sebastian was resisting, almost trusting in his ignorance. Inexplicably, it felt like a betrayal. The guilt turned to irritation on his tongue.

“How sixties of you,” he laughed, “That sounds good in theory, Ciel, but this isn't some after-school special. I can't just stick it to the man and not end up with any consequences.”

Ciel returned the ire in spades, able to communicate so much disdain with one eye alone.

“Is that so? Because it seems to me that Agni is doing perfectly fine.”

Sebastian finally had to falter. It had been Agni who had recommended St. Victoria's to him in the first place, the only other sane staff member in the place, who had been there years longer than Sebastian himself. Considering how blatant his friendship, to say the least, with Soma was, it was unbelievable to think that Agni hadn't met similar treatment from the staff as he himself was receiving. Just as unbelievable as it was to think of Agni harming any of the patients, experimental or otherwise. He had been unwilling to so much as shove Ciel off of him even as Ciel's hands had been around his throat. Whatever change came over people working at St. Victoria's, a change Sebastian could feel closing in on him, Agni had fought it and won.

“There's nothing I can say,” Ciel continued, “Our situations aren't the same, no matter what way you look at them. But Agni, he might be able to help you. Go talk to him. Ask him how he's lasted this long. If nothing else, you know he's on your side.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I think there's something living in his hair,” Luka whispered conspiratorially into Alois' ear, eyeing Doctor with a suspicious frown, “Well, it _was_ alive, at least.”

It took great effort not to laugh out loud at the words no one else could hear, a treacherous smile slipping through, one that Doctor's keen eyes did not miss. That was one more alarm bell ringing for the man since their monthly check-up had begun, yet another little discrepancy bleeding through that Alois didn't realize to hide.

Doctor was very good at what he did. While he was no psychologist, he took pride in what he did and utilized his down time for studying the areas in which he lacked. As such, it was clear to him within minutes of shutting the infirmary door that something was not right. Identifying just what was simple enough.

Alois very rarely made such determined eye contact. While his behaviour could shift from outgoing to self-contained in an instant, it had always been a constant that he had difficulty maintaining eye contact with the majority of the staff, bar Dr. Faustus, for any extended time. He masked it well usually, feigning a shift in his attention, something outside the window or anything new within the room stealing his focus. Today, however, he was meeting Doctor's eyes with a deliberate intent. Too much thought was going into it. Alarm bell one.

The way he was sitting. Alois was not a person typically at ease, no matter the situation or the location. Especially not within the infirmary, what he and his fellow patients no doubt irrationally considered to be 'enemy territory'. He always had a closed off manner, gave off the potential for aggression that kept people away like a hedgehog's spines. He would huddle into himself, curl up as small as he could, all defence, yet today was different. Today he sat with a forced relaxation, slouched down into the cushions, limbs splayed. Too sudden a change, too groundless a change. Alarm bell two.

His pupils. Not their size, that was as it should have been. However, for all that Alois was fixing such intent focus on Doctor, his stare unwavering, his pupils would not remain still. He may have been trying to keep his attention on Doctor, but the way his pupils kept flickering to his left was cause for concern. Especially since every minute shift of attention coincided with a hint of humour. A fought away smile, a smothered laugh, things of that sort. There was nothing worthy of such mirth that Doctor could see. Alarm bell three.

Doctor did not make it a habit to ignore warnings so blatant. He put away that day's dose of Zydrate and called for Dr. Faustus. He didn't take long to arrive, heeding Doctor's urgency. The moment he stepped through the infirmary door, a subtle change came over Alois, easy to miss but one that Doctor was watching for. The eye contact disappeared, his entire posture stiffened, and he no longer let his attention wander to the left of him. It was the eye contact that was most interesting to note. A complete one eighty – forcing himself to look at Doctor when he usually wouldn't, and now refusing to look at Dr. Faustus when he usually wouldn't be able to tear his eyes away – very interesting.

“I was busy,” Dr. Faustus said after gesturing Doctor aside, having yet to acknowledge Alois at all. He spoke with all the usual respect he showed to those so much as an inch below him on the pay roll. Doctor ignored it, as he always did.

“I'm sorry to have pulled you away, but I thought you'd want to deal with this first hand, y'see,” Doctor explained with cheer ill-fitting the situation, “I've noticed some abnormalities with the patient. Behavioural changes you might want to take a note of.”

“Such as?” While his expression had yet to crack, there was more interest in Dr. Faustus' voice now. As much interest as he ever deigned to display, at any rate. He gave Alois a thoughtful glance, taking note of the immediate differences he could see, but then his attention was caught by the unused syringe on the desk. “You haven't given him his dose.”

“Well, no,” Doctor paused, sensing the displeasure at that, “It didn't seem wise until we'd assessed the effects that it's already had.”

Dr. Faustus didn't look convinced, dropping the conversation without a word and moving to lean against the desk in front of Alois. Alois gave no indication that he knew he was there, staring at the ground with a stony expression.

“Alois,” Doctor almost did a double take at the change in Dr. Faustus' voice, from its usual cold indifference to an almost warm tone, “Is there anything you'd like to tell me?”

Alois shook his still lowered head, his hair falling into his eyes, “No.” It was a petulant sound, a child caught out but still trying to feign innocence. It wouldn't do.

“Alright. Then I'm going to ask some questions and I'd like you to answer them honestly, okay?” The softer manner Dr. Faustus was feigning, surely feigning, was working already. Alois was no longer tensing up quite so much, his head rising gradually. Doctor watched with interest, monitoring every slight movement Alois made.

“When was our last one-on-one?”

“Three weeks ago.” A wrinkle at the nose, a twitch at the corner of his mouth, displeasure at the fact.

“And everything was alright then, you didn't lie to me?”

“No.” Furrowing of the brow, insult at the accusation.

“And you're not going to lie to me now?”

“… No.” An obvious hesitation covered too slowly, the beginnings of discomfort.

“Since our last meeting, have you experienced any nausea?”

“No.” An immediate answer, a relieved expression, honesty.

“Since our last meeting, have you experienced any loss of sleep?”

“No.” A slight shift of tone, though the answer was as readily given, a lie.

“Alois.”

“… Yes.” The guard was slipping now, Doctor could see, and his pupils began to dart to the left once again. Was it panic, he wondered, were they straying too close to the mark for the patient's comfort?

“And since your sleep patterns have been disturbed, have you experienced any visual or auditory hallucinations?”

“No.” Both Dr. Faustus and Doctor found themselves paused then. The answer was too readily given but there was no telling change of tone, no aversion of the eyes. Truth or lie, neither of them could completely tell. With no way to move forward from that point, the interrogation ended.

“Alright. Thank you for your honesty, Alois,” Dr. Faustus said, voice soft as sin, “If anything changes, you know to ask for me and I'll come as soon as I have the time. Now, we'll give you this and then you can return to the ward.”

Dr. Faustus reached behind him to pick up the Zydrate, the neon blue liquid sloshing in its narrow tube. Doctor frowned, wheeling himself over to the desk with a polite cough.

“Dr. Faustus, perhaps it would be best to monitor the effects further before continuing this particular course of medication?” Doctor interjected in what he intended to be as non-intrusive a tone as he could manage. From the look he received, it was a wasted effort.

“I didn't ask for your opinion,” Dr. Faustus said evenly, rolling back the sleeve of Alois' proffered arm. Doctor reached forward, putting a restraining hand on Dr. Faustus' before he could bring the needle any closer to the juncture of Alois' arm. Dr. Faustus tensed under the unwelcome touch.

“We have to assume that, at this point, it will do more damage than good,” Doctor attempted to reason, throwing Alois a reassuring smile, but the boy's head was lowered once more. Abruptly, Doctor found himself pushed away, Dr. Faustus' cold amber eyes burning.

“You just concern yourself with the zoo downstairs, _Doctor,_ and I'll take care of the patients.”

With that, he turned back to Alois and stuck the needle home with far more force than was necessary. A display clearly for Doctor's sake. Doctor saw red for a moment, his pride stung, but he reigned it in before it could get away from him. With a smile less genuine than his norm, he bid the two goodbye as Dr. Faustus returned Alois to the main ward. With the reminder of his zoo, his thoughts returned to Ward V and its inhabitants, but it was difficult to focus on them after seeing the beginnings of a blatant deterioration before his eyes. The deterioration of one still salvageable.

_Concern yourself with the zoo,_ Doctor reminded himself, even as he itched to call Alois back. There was much he could do for the boy, only on the edge of ruin, methods of treatment that could pull him back before the rot of the mind truly set in. But no. As Dr. Faustus was only so kind as to remind him, that was not his.


	23. Chapter 23

Agni was a ghost.

There was the distant sound of him in a conversation just down the hall, or the flash of his back growing smaller as he disappeared around a corner, but outside of these brief snippets of his presence, Sebastian could not catch him at all. Like trying to grasp smoke with his fingertips, he always just missed, the annoyance growing sharper with every near encounter.

Their shifts never quite aligned any more. They either just missed each other during the switch over or one of them was entirely absent. Even in the dining hall, Sebastian couldn't seem to catch him, and knocking on Agni's bedroom door was just as fruitless an effort as all the rest.

If Sebastian were a more sensitive man, he would think that he was being avoided.

It was in only a marginally better mood than the day before that Sebastian let himself into Ciel's bedroom that evening.

“Any luck?” Ciel asked, frowning down at a weathered old book on his desk.

Sebastian wasted no time in making himself at home, kicking his shoes off and slumping down on the bed, “None. So little luck, in fact, that it's actually regressed to _bad.”_

“Oh dear.” Ciel sounded very concerned. “Were you on the other ward today?”

Although he knew the name, Ciel never seemed to refer to Ward V by its title, his lip always curling when he said _other_ in a tone Sebastian could never quite manage to identify.

“No,” Sebastian replied shortly. _Time off for good behaviour._ He didn't share that suspicion with Ciel. Being called from his shift by Ash in the mornings had become so common place now that it had been a shock when it didn't happen. He had felt the weight of those rusty old scissors in his hand all day.

Ciel shut the book over with a sigh. “I supposed not. Ash was on the ward today, so figured you weren't down there either. You know he actually _asked_ if I wanted to play chess tonight.”

Sebastian snorted inelegantly.

“He's missed playing with you, bless his little cotton socks,” he drawled with a shake of his head, “Are you going to grace him with your prowess?”

“The only thing worse than playing against someone with no talent is playing against someone with no talent who believes they're God's gift to the world,” Ciel replied with the sort of confidence only someone who was sure in their talent could have. Arrogance was probably more accurate a word than confidence, to be fair. “Besides, it's _that_ time of year. He'll only want to talk at me about cricket.”

Sebastian rose an eyebrow, “Hmm, you don't like cricket? I thought it was one of those things that all English people liked, like queues and raffles and The Beatles.”

“You learned everything you know about England from TV, didn't you?” Ciel said with an impressive amount of utter disdain. “Americans.”

“Name any American city besides New York or Washington,” Sebastian challenged, eyes falling shut as he snickered, “And tell me anything it's famous for that doesn't begin with 'World's Biggest'.”

Ciel fell predictably silent, to Sebastian's joy.

“Getting back to actually _important_ matters ---”

“Change the topic faster, sore loser ---”

“I have something for you.”

When Sebastian opened his eyes, Ciel was standing over him, hand extended between them. In his palm lay a plain black box, open, a sapphire ring resting on a bed of blue satin. The ring was a sturdy thing, a signet ring with an elegant _P_ carved on both sides of the rock, the band of silver tarnished from much wear. It looked both old but in good condition, a treasured thing.

“Why, Ciel,” Sebastian said after a long beat of silence, waiting for an explanation that didn't come, “You didn't even go down on one knee.”

“Don't be a prick,” Ciel scolded, nudging him until there was room on the bed to sit, “This was my father's ring. His father gave it to him, and his father to him, and on and on in a wretchedly sentimental chain that is quite frankly outdated by this day and age. He,” the flow of words paused, Ciel's face contorting for a brief moment, as though having to brace himself to continue. When he did, it was in a rush, throwing the words away before he could second think them, “He gave it to me when he knew it was his last chance to, and he died a few weeks later. It was the only thing I was able to keep when they brought me here. No one knows about it or they'd have probably taken it away.”

Sebastian looked at the ring again. The scuffs on the silver. The grimy smudge of a fingerprint on the stone. How many times had Ciel taken this from its hiding place to hold in his hands, trying to fit it on too small fingers, to remember how it had come to him at all? Ciel may have dismissed any sentiment out of hand, but it was plain to see just how much he had placed in so small a thing, more a physical memory than it was an item.

Sebastian didn't understand why he was being shown this. This was a fragment of Ciel, and Ciel didn't give any of himself away to anyone.

“It's … very nice,” Sebastian said, for once at a loss for a response.

Ciel rolled his eye, “Yes, it's a shining example of beauty, that's hardly the point.”

“Then what _is_ the point?”

“The point is, you made very clear to me yesterday that what you're most afraid of is the same happening to you as what happened to Finny,” Ciel stated impatiently, as though Sebastian should have been able to read his mind by now, “And, considering we don't actually know _how_ that happened, who did it or … well, anything surrounding that situation really, I can hardly reassure you that it _won't_ happen to you. _So._ I propose that we make a trade. I give you an important item to me. In return, you'll give me something of equal value to you. Then if anything like that does happen to either one of us, we'll each carry a reminder of the other one, like the post-it note or Finny's hat, and it'll jog our memories like it did back then.”

The ring was extended to him again, the fingers holding the box tightening possessively even as it was offered. Sebastian almost didn't want to take it. He didn't have something of equal value, nothing that he kept and treasured like Ciel had obviously done so with this. It seemed wrong to take it, for anyone out of that family to touch it. But without the post-it note, without the blood-stained hat, none of them would have remembered Finny, and what would have happened to him then? Locked in that room, losing himself, so forgotten that he may well have never existed.

Sebastian took the ring with cautious fingers. He almost expected Ciel to snatch it back, the covetous way he looked at it in someone else's grip, but he didn't. It was heavier than it looked, the silver cold. It would fit his fingers much better than Ciel's more slender ones but he didn't put it on, slipping it into his pants pocket with care.

Their eyes met. Ciel was waiting for him to say something, he thought, or maybe he just didn't want to have to say anything else. The silence drew out until Sebastian, itching to break it, simply said, “Thank you.”

The moment broke.

“You're not _keeping_ it,” Ciel sneered, “I'll want that back, in as good a nick as it is right now, when we get out of this place.”

“Oh?” Sebastian grinned, “When, not if? You're certain we will get out of here, then.”

“Well I don't know about you, but I'm certainly not planning on sticking around long term,” Ciel rose from the bed, stretching his arms above his head. Sebastian's eyes were drawn to the strip of skin exposed as his shirt rose, “I expect you to have something for me by tomorrow. And so help me, if you _lose_ that ---”

“I will guard it with my life,” Sebastian promised with a smirk.

“Yes, you will,” Ciel assured him with the air of an order.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

The next day, Sebastian was not quite so fortunate as before. He had barely placed a foot inside the main ward before Angela was stood before him. Face twisted in what she must have thought a smile looked like, she placed a hand on his arm to stop him going any further. He managed not to cringe away from her touch, but only just.

“Today you'll be on Ward V, Sebastian, if you don't mind,” she informed him politely. It was the type of civility that was so clinical that it reversed upon itself and became rude once again. Sebastian was only too happy to respond just as courteously.

“Not at all,” he said, with a smile that ached to fall, “Will your brother be joining me?”

“Not today. He's on night shifts this week, so he'll be resting during the day,” her attention was already flickering away from him now that she deemed their conversation done, looking over her shoulder with disapproval as two of the patients – Dagger and Freckles, judging by the voices – started yelling at one another, “Off you go. You're technically already late, Michaelis.”

Thoroughly dismissed as he was, Sebastian had no choice but to turn back the way he had come. If nothing else, he was grateful for yesterday's reprieve, at least. And no Ash was always a good thing. Did that mean it would just be him and Doctor on the ward? He was unsure how to feel about that. Doctor could hardly do anything to him, but he would be lying if he claimed the man didn't send a chill through him. Evil was one thing, but evil that genuinely believed itself to be good was another thing altogether.

Sebastian fingered the ring in his pocket, almost letting it slip onto his index finger as he made his way further down the building.

The smell and the racket of Ward V no longer hit him as harshly as it used to. Sebastian didn't have to linger outside the door to build up his nerve like before, just scanned his keycard and walked into the pen. The bedlam inside was the same as always, some squealing like pigs, others weeping like children, then the one or two who were mute and staring. He didn't look at any one of them longer than he had to, brief glances enough to assure him nothing had changed since his last visit. V6's hair was just as messy as it always had been, even if it was cut close to her scalp now. Hardly a change at all.

“Sebby!”

Sebastian's attention shot forward. At the far end of the room, flanking Doctor in his chair, was Grell and Will. Grell's long hair was pulled back into a messy bun, his uniform altered from its standard style to have flared cuffs and old-fashioned lace around the buttons. He had dyed it red, a vibrant splash against the filthy white of the room, though patches were lighter where the dye had not taken as well as elsewhere. Will was much the same as usual, his face dark with disapproval as he eyed Grell's adjustments, his own uniform immaculate in its standard style. He looked about as happy to see Sebastian as he always was.

Sebastian's throat felt thick and he wondered for a moment if he was going to throw up.

“Sebastian, good morning!” Doctor greeted cheerfully, wheeling himself towards him, “Sorry about yesterday. You must have been bored upstairs, but there wouldn't have been much for you to do down here. I was running the monthly assessments. Business as usual now though! You've met Grell and William, I take it?”

Grell sauntered over to him, taking his arm with a toothy grin. Sebastian didn't even bother shaking him off. Nothing short of cutting his arm off would detach the redhead for good.

“Yes, they're my neighbours, in a sense,” Sebastian replied with a smile, “Though I haven't seen much of them in a while.”

“Did you miss me?” Grell simpered. Sebastian ignored him.

“I believe all four of us will overcrowd the room and rile the patients up,” Will stated authoritatively, addressing Doctor even as he eyed the patients with apathy, “Is this many of us really necessary?”

“Oh, yes! I'm afraid so!” Doctor hurried to assure him, “In fact, I was hoping for one more pair of hands, but Ash wasn't available. The treatment today will require some … physical handling, you see, and it's better to have too many than too few, just in case the patient gets agitated.”

Sebastian rolled the ring between his fingers, hand still hidden in his pocket. Physical handling. He didn't like the sound of that. He had never had to touch them before, never had to restrain them. Even being inside their cages had him on edge.

Neither Grell nor Will looked particularly bothered by the choice of words, however, and it made Sebastian think. Although he had been coming down to Ward V for a number of months now, the other Orderlies will have had the job before him. Grell, Will, Ronald, even Agni, if Ciel was right. This wasn't new to _them._ But it had only ever been Ash and Doctor on the ward with him. Was it over then, Sebastian wondered, eyes drawn to V6 and what was left of her dark hair, this bizarre initiation into Ward V? Did they consider him one of them now?

The threat of throwing up worsened.

“Our customer today is patient V8. I don't think you've dealt with this one before, Sebastian, come have a look,” Doctor instructed, leading the way over to one of the far cages, near the other electronic door that he had yet to see opened. Somehow he thought he might be seeing through that door soon enough.

V8 was a screamer. Matted platinum hair, so greasy it was darkened to brown, hung in lank strands over an emaciated but ruddy-cheeked face. The colour in his cheeks was not a healthy thing, however, the red almost purpling as he continued to screech without pausing for breath. His features may have once been attractive, but that was a long time ago, and now it was clear that his nose had been broken many times, one of his eyes cloudy and streaming with an infection, his lips riddled with open sores. Physical handling was most unappealing, but obviously necessary, as V8 threw himself against his confines as Sebastian peered in to see.

“One of our more aggressive specimens,” Doctor noted unnecessarily with a sad shake of the head, “Every effort has been made with V8 but none of our methods have had any effect. At this point, our only option is the more … radical processes. I try to avoid these. Inhumane, really, but then that's a bit of a misnomer here, isn't it?”

Doctor laughed at his own joke, but he appeared downtrodden, as though he was discouraged by what he perceived to be his failure. Grell cringed in distaste at the state of V8, but there was no pity in his eyes, only repulsion. Will barely seemed to care at all, an indifference so acute it had to have been learnt. Sebastian wasn't sure what his own expression was but he tried to mirror Will's. That lack of care was better than the other two ends of the spectrum.

“William, Grell, if you'll bring the patient. Sebastian, get the door for me.” It was no surprise when Doctor wheeled himself down towards the other door, the one Sebastian had never seen beyond, had never particularly wanted to. His keycard unlocked it and he held the door for Doctor to get through. Will and Grell had entered the cage, each armed with long rods. A claw mechanism was attached at the end, the sort that was used to catch stray or vicious animals. V8 lunged for Grell, who stepped out of the way with a twirl and a snicker, while Will caught him around the neck with the rod and pinned him to the floor. As easy as that, they had caught the writhing patient and dragged him out of his cage into the back room.

Sebastian may not have had to brace himself to enter the ward that day but he had to take a moment for himself now, clutching the ring in his pocket, before he was ready to turn and see this new room.

It thankfully stopped just short of being a torture chamber. For that, St. Victoria's would have had to stretch the budget for some Iron Maidens and a dunk tank, and given in to the realm of utter cliché.

The room was illuminated by bright fluorescent beams along the ceiling, the type that reminded him of hospitals and schools, and wide windows stretched along two of the four walls. Through one he could see outside, the institute gardens, a span of patchy grass and determinedly lingering flowers. The other window was dark, an empty room with a number of chairs pointed this way, as though to view what was going on inside. On the other two walls there were posters, health and safety warnings, hygiene instructions, an x-ray screen. At the centre of the room was a reclined chair, the sort that would be found at the dentist's, and several trolleys by its side holding various types of equipment.

Doctor caught Sebastian looking and chortled good-naturedly, “Don't worry, no surgery today! The three of you, go put a smock on, and some gloves too. Sebastian, hold V8 for William when you're done.”

There were hangers next to the poster detailing fire assembly points, stiff blue smocks dangling from them. Grell's nose wrinkled as he eyed the muted colour, its unflattering style, but surprisingly enough he put it on without voicing his obvious complaints. Sebastian followed suit, snapping on a pair of latex gloves.

V8's struggle against the rod increased when it changed hands from Will to Sebastian, as though the patient could sense his hesitance. When V8 suddenly lunged forward, he would have lost grip entirely were it not for Grell, who gave a swift kick to V8's chest and secured Sebastian's hands on the rod tighter.

“Careful, Sebby. Can't let It take you by surprise,” Grell said, without a hint of his usual flippancy, though his hands did linger on Sebastian's for a moment too long. Sebastian tried to find the double entendre in his words but couldn't. That may have been the most disturbing thing of the day so far.

“Over here!” Doctor ordered.

Sebastian was delegated to the sidelines as Will and Grell followed Doctor's instructions in preparing V8. He couldn't help eyeing the array of tools on the trolleys; scalpels, a dermatome, dental forceps, clamps. His skin crawled at the sight of them. They were in much better condition than those scissors had been, maintained and cleaned often clearly. Which was Doctor going to choose? Would it be messy, if he thought they needed the smocks? Would anyone be watching in the viewing room as though this were nothing more than some show on their television screen?

Sebastian's thoughts of mess and instruments disappeared when he saw Will wheeling in the machine. There was nothing dubious about that.

“I have no doubt in my mind that you have heard some terrible things about this sort of therapy, Sebastian,” Doctor started as soon as he saw Sebastian pale, “But that will have been from self-righteous activists with no real idea of the science of the method. ECT is proven to, in layman’s terms, ' _fix the faulty wiring'_ in a person's brain. It has been proven in countless case studies to have completely cured depression and bi-polar disorders! You get Hollywood making it out as some sort of torture but it really doesn't hurt them at all, I assure you.”

Then why the restraints, Sebastian wondered as Grell tightened buckles around V8's arms, legs and chest. V8 had stopped screaming quite so loudly, was now letting out more of a gurgling groan, and his attention was no longer on them. His manic eyes stared through the window, to the institute garden. The effect it had on him was startling. All of a sudden, V8 was calmer, struggling only minutely against his binding, the noises he made not nearly as anguished. It was like a different person, not that wild beast from the cage.

“Of course this method doesn't really work well alone, and though we usually avoid drug treatments with the Ward V patients, if only because of the difficulty involved in _giving_ them medication, I'm trying to get around Dr. Faustus to see what we can do for V8,” Doctor continued as Will attached electrodes to both sides of V8's forehead and Grell administered an injection to one of his restrained arm, “I'm sure you won't be surprised to hear that he is blocking me at every turn. He even went behind my back to the Chairmen! Told them there was no need to _waste funding_ down here. Well, I've got a thing or two I'd like to say to him, I'll tell you that for free.”

“As thrilling as the interdepartmental drama is, Doctor, can we proceed?” Will interjected icily, “That small a dosage won't last long on a patient this size.”

“Oh, yes, quite right,” Doctor cleared his throat, flustered, “Apologies, gents. Well, as I was saying, don't let the misinformed masses cast a shade on this form of treatment, Sebastian. Think of it this way; if your car's engine stopped working and it turned out a necessary wire had come loose from its proper place, would you call your mechanic a monster for putting it back as it should be?”

V8 had gone limp on the table, dull violet eyes watching the clouds block out the sun, making the room that little bit duller. The sores on his mouth had torn during his screaming and a cloudy trickle oozed down his chin. Was it pity Sebastian was feeling, or some sort of disgust? Drool began to trickle from the corner of V8's mouth, mingling with the pus in a congealing puddle, and Sebastian just couldn't tell. He _wanted_ it to be pity, he really did.

“A car doesn't have the ability to give consent, Doctor,” he replied, forgetting to hold his tongue in a moment of disgust, targeted more at himself than anyone else in the room.

Doctor just chortled, as always, “And you think these patients do, Sebastian?”

“Don't be silly, Sebby,” Grell spoke up, grabbing V8's head to roughly jam the rubber bite block into Its – _his –_ mouth. “Would you ask a horse's permission to ride it?”

“It may seem cruel now, Sebastian, but it's the end result we strive for. In the end, it's in the patient's best interests,” Doctor insisted earnestly. It seemed to matter to Doctor that Sebastian see his way, that he be an ally. Sebastian wondered for a moment if maybe Doctor was trying to convince himself too, but dismissed the thought. Wishful thinking, and foolish to boot.

The three of them were looking at him now – Doctor, hopeful; Grell, curious; Will, calculative – and Sebastian knew this was a fork in the road. Stick to his guns and challenge them, and he may not leave that room at all. Lie, pretend to be swayed by their beliefs, and be safe for another day. The choice was simple, but he hesitated. Hesitated because their argument was too convincing. Because from the moment he had obeyed the order and cut V6's hair, he had chosen the most dangerous path he could have. Because he was already angry at the patients, _all_ of the patients, for being so weak and making him the villain just for being stronger. It would be too easy to have his lie become reality, to pretend now to agree with them only to realize later that he was no longer pretending, that their truth had become his truth. And that scared him more than the trolley full of tools did.

But, the empty cage besides V9's, no, Peter's. The very real possibility of becoming Patient V10. He had yet to give Ciel a token of his own. He could still be forgotten. He still wasn't safe. A word here, an action against a creature that could hardly even notice a thing any more, and he could be. Safe long enough to give Ciel something of his and then not have to worry any more, not about that empty cage at least.

The three were still watching, still waiting, and the silence was becoming the answer Sebastian did not want to give.

Sebastian stepped forward, taking a definitive step at those crossroads.

“What voltage?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“It doesn't bother you.”

Will paused at the bottom of the stairs, deigning to glance back as Sebastian strode to fall into step beside him. Where Sebastian was looking more flustered than his usual composed self, hair in a disarray and uniform rumpled, Will was pristine and untouched. Unlike Sebastian, he had had no qualms about using force to subdue V8 when trying to return the awakening patient to his cell.

Will didn't bother to ask what Sebastian was referring to, answering shortly, “Of course not.”

The treatment hadn't taken even an hour, but despite the morning being only half gone, it had felt like Sebastian had been trapped in that room all day. As soon as they were done, Doctor and Grell had disappeared, each to their own devices, and it had been left to the two of them to deal with V8. Doing so, Sebastian had once again been struck by Will's utter indifference. How was it possible to look upon such people, stripped of what had once made them human, and feel _nothing?_

“Did it ever?” he asked, relaxed tone not betraying how desperately he wanted the answer.

Will was loathe to spend more time with him than he had to, that much was plain to see, but he seemed to contemplate the answer before giving a begrudging reply, “I may have had reservations initially.”

Sebastian snatched at that thread, pulling it sharply with, “What changed?”

Will stopped walking, looking him in the eye. There was a pause. It was not a pause of speechlessness, of being unable to find an answer, but rather one of piecing together the words to get across the meaning without giving more away than he wanted to. This conversation was going to be heavily self-censored, Sebastian could see already, but a censored answer was better than no answer at all.

"Unlike the rest of you, I'm a professional," Will stated, straightening the cuffs of his shirt primly. Or was it fidgeting? "I signed a contract. I accept the food they feed me. I sleep under their roof. I take the money they give me. They have bought me, I'm not too proud to say it, because this is a job. What we do is no different than any other profession – we trade our services for their money. The same way that a plumber repairs a pipe, or a care worker wipes the filth from those that can't do it for themselves, it is our job to keep in check those people that are too dangerous to be allowed in normal society. Has a line been crossed at St. Victoria's?" Will's voice dropped. Not a whisper, but certainly not as loud as it had been before, no chance of anyone overhearing now. "Yes. The separation of the patients, the difference in the treatments they receive; it alarmed me at first, I'll grant you that, but I got over it. I shook off my doubts and carried on, because I had a job to do. And you do too."

Having said his piece, Will gave Sebastian a sharp nod and made to walk away, but Sebastian couldn't swallow that answer.

"They bought you – that's _it?_ Either we're on very different wages or your humanity is a lot cheaper than mine is," Sebastian spat, though a rueful grin twisted at his lips, "The pay isn't that good. What's the real reason?" His temper was growing beyond his ability to reign it in. Money wasn't the real reason. It _couldn't_ be the real reason. Not for the things Will must have done. Things Sebastian was going to be expected to do soon enough too. "Were you a runt growing up, is that it? Your parents didn't hug you enough. The kids at school were mean to you. But now you're the one with the power – _is that it?!"_

Sebastian caught the hand that went for his throat, stopping Will from getting him in a strangle hold, but Will still managed to shove him back against the wall. Faces inches apart, so close they were sharing breaths, Will almost cracked a smile.

"You're so angry," he said, voice as much a monotone as ever despite the wicked glint in his eyes, "And that's just it. We think we're better than it, but we're not. No one us. It's the _anger_ that does it. And you're much angrier than I ever was."

Sebastian shoved him away with a snarl. He didn't even lose his footing.

"You've lasted longer than most," Will allowed with a dismissive shrug, already turning to walk away. Sebastian didn't stop him this time. "But I doubt you will much longer."

It wasn't even mocking. That was the worst of it. Any of the other staff and Sebastian could have just brushed it off as them trying to bait him, trying to frighten him. Not Will, though. Will didn't care enough about him to exert the effort. The things he had said were truth because, to Will, Sebastian was not worth the breath it would have taken to lie. Sebastian couldn't just dismiss what he had said.

_It's the anger that does it. And you're much angrier than I ever was._

His hands were balled into fists at his sides, he realized, without him consciously doing so. He unclenched them with effort. Took a deep breath, and then another, and another, until the haze of red over his eyes had evaporated. He had never considered himself to be so foul-tempered, but he was sinking into bad moods at the drop of a hat more and more often. If it was really anger that broke them, as Will insisted it was, then he needed to get a handle on himself before he crossed that quickly dwindling line.

Sebastian stood in the empty stairwell for more than a few minutes, just counting his breaths and fingering the ring in his pocket. It was only just gone eleven o'clock, not even afternoon yet, so he knew he would be expected to make an appearance on the main ward at some point. Before that, however, he planned to make a couple of diversions.

First, to his bedroom.

Sebastian was not a sentimental man. He didn't place much value in belongings, beyond their obvious uses. Phones were useful for communicating, bags were useful for keeping things safe, clothes were useful for adhering to public decency laws. But that was as far as his regard went, no deep feelings attached to any of his things. They were just that - things. He owned nothing so heavy with memories and heart as Ciel's ring. Yet he had to give something to Ciel in return, something that Ciel could attach the memory of him to in case the worst happened.

His bedroom was no less sparse than it had been over a year ago, when he had first moved in. The neatly made bed, the empty bookcase, only half the available drawers occupied by clothes. The drawer rattled when he pulled it open, however, a metallic clinking of something knocking about inside.

It only served to drive home Sebastian's utter lack of sentimentality and regard for material things that he had completely forgotten about the cheap little pocket watch tucked away at the back of the drawer behind a row of balled-up socks.

He remembered it now, though. Nothing remotely special. Having just landed at Heathrow, waiting for the train that would take him to meet whichever representative St. Victoria's had sent for him, his wrist watch had stopped working. Never one to be without a watch, Sebastian had wandered around the Duty Free shops and found the pocket watch, designed to look more elegant than it really was and only five pounds. He had bought it, placed it in the drawer when he had arrived, and promptly forgotten all about it.

"That'll do," Sebastian muttered to himself, snatching it from the drawer and shoving it in the pocket with the ring.

The next stop was the gardens.

Although they had never been anything resembling beautiful, the gardens had become a barren mess since Finny's departure. Without his loyal tending, nothing lived for long. What little grass there was was more brown than green, dirt prevalent. There were no flowers at all. The trees were hulking sentinels, the sort that scratched on windows on windy nights and frightened children.

Fitting, then.

The ring and the watch knocked together with a clink with every step he took, his feet drawing him to the brick walls boxing them in. It would have been easy to throw himself up, catch the wall edge with his hands and vault over, just like Finny, Bard and Meirin had done. Just a jump, that was all it had took for them to be free. Where were they now? Had Finny recovered? It felt like it had been years since that night, but in actuality it had only been a number of months. Maybe they had been caught, if anyone cared enough to catch them.

Somehow, Sebastian doubted he would be allowed to escape unpursued.

He came upon the window a short while later. It had seemed monumentally important to see that surgery room from the other side, but now that he was here, looking into the vacant and dark room, he couldn't remember _why._

Still, he lingered for a while before heading up to the main ward, staring through the glass sightlessly. Nothing was hidden. The reclined chair, stained where V8 had soiled himself during the procedure, and the trolley of tools beside it could be easily seen from where Sebastian was standing, almost a yard away. It was no secret at all.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Oi, oi, stop that, you'll bleed yourself!” Soma admonished, slapping lightly at Ciel's hands. Ciel startled. He had been biting at his nails unconsciously and it took a moment to realize what Soma was scolding him for. He'd torn far enough down on his thumb nail for it to hurt, but it hadn't bled. Wondering at himself, Ciel shoved his hands down his sides, wedged between his body and the chair where he wouldn't be able to get at them again.

“Is something the matter?” Agni asked, soft-voiced and concerned.

It was just the three of them in the corner, the rest of the patients spread out across the room, or in the case of one patient, not there at all. Ciel glanced towards Alois' bedroom door. He hadn't seen him all day. All week, now that he thought about it. Ciel hadn't noticed he was keeping a distance until Alois had begun to do so too.

“No, nothing,” Ciel answered absently, gnawing on his lip as a substitute for his fingernails. He didn't see the glance Soma and Agni shared. If he had, he would have been more subtle in his worry. It was unlike him to be so outwardly concerned.

“Ah!” Soma exclaimed suddenly, grasping for something to say to grab Ciel's attention, “We're in the gardens tomorrow, aren't we, Agni?”

Agni was only too happy to follow Soma's lead, replying just as enthusiastically, “Yes! I'm on that shift. I checked the weather forecast and it looks like it's going to be a good day for it.”

“I hope it'll be sunny,” Soma said dreamily, “I haven't sunbathed in ages. Though the gardens are such a mess. You'd think they'd hire a gardener.”

Agni laughed, a little uncomfortably. Gardeners were a sensitive topic for St. Victoria's, he imagined.

The conversation ended as Ciel jumped to his feet, a determined look on his face. They all knew that never boded well.

“Where're you going?” Soma asked, grabbing Ciel's sleeve.

“Haven't seen Alois in a while,” Ciel answered flippantly, “Going to check he's still alive.”

Soma spluttered as Ciel strode towards Alois' bedroom door, though he didn't try to stop him. More than a few of the other patients were watching by the time Ciel knocked on the door.

“Alois?” Ciel called when his knock went unanswered. He could hear movement within the room, but it became increasingly obvious as the seconds grew into minutes that Alois had no plans to respond. Ciel frowned, irritation swelling. Being ignored was not something he was at all accustomed to. “Alois, did you hear me?”

Still no answer. His hand went to the door handle. Before he could open the door, however, another hand covered his.

“Somethin' tells me he's not much in the mood for company today, yeah?” Joker moved Ciel's hand from the handle, an apologetic look on his face. He inclined his head towards the ward door. “Besides, your mate's here.”

Ciel snatched his hand away, eyeing Joker with displeasure. He gave the door a final look before following Sebastian into his bedroom.

“What was going on there?” Sebastian asked once the door was closed, toeing off his shoes. Ciel was quick to take the bed before he could, sprawling across it to leave him no room. He opted for the chair without complaint, his shoulder cracking as he stretched.  
“I think I'm in a fight with Alois,” Ciel shared, bemused, “Though I haven't the faintest idea when it started or why.”

Sebastian frowned, “Probably round about the time you started ignoring him?”

Ciel propped himself up on his elbows, genuinely confused, “What are you talking about, I haven't been ignoring him. He started getting weird once my sessions with Faustus were increased, so I gave him some space to sort himself out. That's all. I have no idea why he's being like this now. Surely he's not still sulking?”

Sebastian wrinkled his nose, fighting a laugh, “That's a really long-winded way of saying ' _I ignored him and now I'm annoyed he's ignoring me back.'_ Not used to the silent treatment? I find it hard to believe you've never been on the receiving end of it before. I mean, as … _charming_ as I find you, your temperament must be an acquired taste, to say the least.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Ciel replied, deadpan, “I'm nothing less than lovely to everyone. If there's a problem, then it's _them.”_

“What a wonderfully balanced way of looking at things,” Sebastian snickered, “You clearly have no fault here. Alois _must_ be shown the error of his ways. How dare he ignore you back. Who does he think he is – Ciel Phantomhive?”

Ciel rolled his eye, lip curling in amusement despite himself.

“I'll talk to him later,” he said, dismissing the situation from this thoughts for now, “So, did you bring me something?”

Sebastian obediently withdrew the watch from his pocket, spilling it into Ciel's waiting hands. Ciel turned it over between his fingers, tracing the design on the case, clicking it open to inspect the interior. There was really nothing special about it, just a bog-standard pocket watch for people who thought they liked antiques but were unwilling to actually pay for an antique. It didn't even tell the time any more, he noticed, the hands motionless beneath the glass.

Ciel was staring at him expectantly. When Sebastian remained silent, his eyebrow rose, prompting.

“What?” Sebastian asked, unsure what was being asked of him.

“So?” Ciel sighed in exasperation, spelling the request out for him, “So what's the story behind it? It has to be important or it won't work.”

“You're joking, right?” Sebastian laughed, “It just has to be a … _thing._ Not that I don't understand the significance of your ring, I do, but let's be honest, you remembered Finny because of some ratty post-it note with nothing but some gossip about a soap on it. If we learned anything from that, it's that it doesn't have to be some grand and treasured item ---”

“Whose to say the note _wasn't_ a treasured item?” Ciel didn't sound angry, but he was far from pleased. “It wasn't what the note said that made it important, Sebastian, it was the _fact_ of the note. I'm not a sentimental person, but in the situation I'm in, the regard I'm given as something somehow less human than other people, it always … it always meant _something_ that Finny treated me like he did. There was nothing to be gained from it, but Finny was kind to me nonetheless. So it was some ratty post-it note, but it still had meaning. So this watch better have meaning or it's useless to us.”

For all that Ciel liked to drive home his lack of sentimentality, he certainly placed sentiment in a great many things. The more Ciel let down his guard around Sebastian, the more he could see what a liar Ciel made of himself, the chasm between his words and his actions. Sebastian used to fight to see those small moments of humanity in Ciel, but now it made him uncomfortable. Like the more human Ciel became to him, the less human he was becoming within St. Victoria's walls.

“It's … not a great story,” Sebastian began, propping his feet up on the desk. It was a rare thing to have Ciel's undivided attention, but he had it then. “Growing up, it was just my mother and I. We got by week by week. As soon as I was old enough, I started working, so that I could help bring money into the house. My first job was at this grocery store around the corner from our apartment. Horrible place, horrible boss, and abysmal pay. But it was a job, my first job, so when I got my first pay cheque, I wanted to do something special with it. Something to mark the moment, I suppose. And I bought _that,”_ he gestured towards the watch in Ciel's hand, “Immediately regretted it because it stopped working a week later, and the cost of getting a battery replacement was twice as much as the watch had cost in the first place, but there you go. That's the story. Not great, but … there's _some_ meaning there. Good enough?”

Ciel tossed the watch carelessly to the floor with a bark of laughter, “You could at least try. Good lord, don't bullshit a bullshitter. The thing is dated 2011. It'd have to be at least seven years old for that story to work.”

Sebastian shrugged, unconcerned, “You wanted a story, I gave you one. The real one? Picked it up at the airport before coming here because my wristwatch stopped working. Put it in a drawer when I got here and haven't touched it since. As you can see, that version lacked sentiment.”

“Much more in character, though,” Ciel pointed out, stretching his arms above his head, his toes curling as he yawned. His shirt rode up again. It annoyed Sebastian that he kept noticing such an unsexual thing in that way. It had to be testament to how desperate he was. “How about we give it a memory, then?”

Sebastian's face lit up, “Why, Ciel, did you just manage to come on to me without being utterly awkward about it?”

“Why, Sebastian, did you know there's a direct correlation between how annoying you are and the chances of you getting laid?”

“Then I should probably stop talking immediately.” Sebastian was already undoing the buttons on his shirt without needing to be asked, shrugging his shirt off and dropping it to the floor. He paused then, bent down and picked it up, folding it neatly over the back of the chair.

Ciel laughed, “Did I miss the part where we established points for cleanliness?”

“If there's a points system in play here, I feel I'm entitled to a fair number of points for keeping my hands to myself this long,” Sebastian replied, “But no, I just think it's better if I don't walk out of your bedroom later looking blatantly deflowered, that's all.”

Ciel latched on to the first comment as he stood up and let Sebastian sprawl across the bed in his place.

“What, you've been wanting to? You should have said. I'm not psychic.” Ciel clambered on top of him, straddling Sebastian's waist with little finesse. He fumbled then, unsure what to do next, so Sebastian took the lead, grinding his hips up into Ciel's. He took care to keep his grip on Ciel loose, non-restrictive.

“Didn't know I was allowed to. Thought it was probably against those rules of yours.”

“No, there were only three – no kissing, no anal, no nudity – outside of that, anything's free game.” Ciel's voice stuttered breathlessly as Sebastian began moving with more purpose, hand on Ciel's lower back to keep him in the right position. It took more self-control than Sebastian knew he had to resist the urge to roll them over and have Ciel under him, but for all that he said anything else was free game, he knew Ciel wouldn't like being pinned beneath him.

“So all I have to do is ask, is that what you're saying?”

“Consider this permission to tell me when you're horny,” Ciel tried to frown, but the expression was difficult to hold as they began to move faster against one another, “I'm going to regret saying that, aren't I? Tell me whenever you want, doesn't mean I'll always do anything about it.”

“Sounds like a fair enough deal to me.” Sebastian grinned, lifting his head up to nuzzle at Ciel's neck. Ciel usually flinched when he did that, assuming he was going to break rule number one, but this time he just tilted his head to the side to give Sebastian more room.

“Would you stop?” Ciel groaned abruptly, and Sebastian froze. Ciel sounded even more annoyed when he continued, “No, not _that._ Just … do you have to _stare_ at me while we're doing this? It's weird.”

Ciel was flushed, and maybe it wasn't all due to the exertion of what they were doing.

Sebastian grinned again, “I'm sorry, are you forbidding _eye contact_ now?”

Ciel put a hand to Sebastian's chest and shoved him back down to the bed, his cheeks even redder now.

“Who the hell _stares_ at someone like that when they're fucking? It's weird. You see my face all the time. Surely you should be taking the opportunity to look at other places, given the situation.”

“This is the most tyrannical sex I've ever had,” Sebastian sneered, though he didn't sound particularly unhappy about it, hand moving down to undo his trousers, “But I'm going to take that as invitation.”

Unfastening the knotted chord on Ciel's pants, he pushed them down too, both of them bare. He took them both in hand and gave them a rough stroke. He purposefully caught Ciel's eye, delighting in how the red in his cheeks intensified. He brought his face closer to Ciel's, close enough to kiss, but Ciel was confident in the knowledge that he wouldn't dare. True enough, he just rested his forehead against Ciel's as he brought them both to completion, breaths mingling together in the inches between them.

Ciel rolled off of him, slumped at the edge of the mattress. Sebastian shuffled over to make more room for him, the two short-breathed and glistening with sweat. They lay in silence for a few minutes before Sebastian felt the need to speak.

“I'd kill for a cigarette right now.”

“You smoke?” Ciel asked, unsurprised. If smokers had a type, Sebastian would fit it to a T.

“On and off. Quitting's easy, but sometimes you just fancy one,” Sebastian gave a breathy laugh, “Can't picture you as a smoker though. You'd probably end up choking to death.”

“I'd have to have a death wish to smoke, as healthy as I am,” Ciel acquiesced, “Don't smoke so long as you're going to be near me. I can't stand the smell.”

“Yes, boss.”

The silence fell again. And once again, Sebastian felt the need to break it, even though Ciel was ready for a nap.

“So … think that'll serve as memory enough?” Ciel wasn't looking at Sebastian, but he didn't have to be to know he had a shit-eating grin stretching from ear to ear.

“I'm already in the process of repressing the entire thing,” Ciel replied, smirking as Sebastian's only response was to mimic him sarcastically. “I'm not feeling conversational right now. You wanted to talk to Agni, right?”

“Little tip,” Sebastian grimaced, wiping the mess off of his hand onto the bedsheets, “Try not to name drop people right after we've slept together. Not that Agni's not a good looking man, but it tends to ruin the afterglow.”

“Either afterglow quietly or take your chatter to someone else.” Ciel yawned, curling up on his side. “Seriously, though. You've not been able to catch Agni, have you?”

“No.” Sebastian frowned. “Is he on the ward? I didn't see him when I came in, and he's not on the rota for today.”

“He was out there before.” Ciel shrugged. His voice was already becoming sluggish. He'd be asleep within minutes, Sebastian knew, so he took the opportunity to climb over him now, before the risk of waking him up set in.

Grabbing his shirt off the back of the chair, Sebastian made his way into the bathroom. After a quick clean up, he looked more or less presentable, at least in the sense that it wouldn't be blatantly obvious to see what he'd just been up to. He felt hurried, a sneaking suspicion that Agni would be long gone by the time he left Ciel's room. He'd been in there no more than a half hour, but that was more than enough time for Agni to find a reason to excuse himself from the ward and disappear, just like he had been doing for days now.

For the first time since getting off that train in London, luck struck for Sebastian Michaelis. A quick glance around the leisure room and he saw Agni making for the ward door. Not fast enough for Sebastian to miss him, however.

“Agni!” Sebastian called from across the room, loud enough to leave no doubt that Agni, and everyone else scattered around the room, would hear him. Yet Agni didn't pause, having the gall to pretend he hadn't heard Sebastian. There was no doubt he was being avoided now.

“Whoa there, slow ya roll,” Freckles skipped over to him, pausing Agni long enough for Sebastian to cut across the room to him, “Think Black wants somethin'.”

"Ah, yes, sorry, Sebastian," Agni was circling the fingers of one hand around the wrist of the other, a nervous tick Sebastian had picked up on years ago. It was especially irritating in that moment. "There's something I need to do ---"

"Then I'll walk with you." Sebastian smiled placidly, turning to Freckles to ignore Agni's half-hearted protests. "Thanks for that, Freckles."

Freckles was glancing between them, the tension like a fourth member of their company. An uncomfortable laugh bubbled from her lips, "Er, no problem. Think Jumbo wants me so …"

"Have a nice day," Sebastian said, waving her away. Something of a consolation, Agni hadn't tried to make a break for it while Sebastian had been talking, defeat in the slump of his shoulders and the furrow of his brow. When Sebastian made to scan them out of the ward, Agni stopped him. "What, I thought you had somewhere you needed to be?"

"It can wait," Agni replied, tone an almost convincing echo of his usual cheer. "What's up?"

"It feels like we haven't had a chance to talk in a while," Sebastian diverted with an edge in his voice, "It's like you keep disappearing around corners. Been busy?"

Agni gave a smile little better than a grimace, "Busier than usual, yes. Undertaker has been here for his annual review. I was asked to oversee."

Sebastian didn't let himself frown. That almost sounded legitimate, and Agni was an astonishingly poor liar. But it rang false to him, who knew Agni had been only a step or two beyond him the entire time he had been trying to catch the man. He hadn't seen hide nor hair of Undertaker, either. That Chairman was a hard person to miss, it had to be said. He was hardly going to straight out call Agni a liar, though, so he just nodded with that same placid, aching smile.

"Can't imagine that's been much fun. Is he still …" Sebastian pulled a face. It spoke for itself.

" _Yes,_ he is." Agni pulled a face of his own. Sebastian could almost believe the exasperation there. "Nice enough man, but exhausting."

"I don't envy you that job."

"So, what was it you needed?" Agni asked patiently, though his eyes flicked to the door in a transparent desire to get away.

Sebastian knew what he needed to ask, but Agni's demeanour was throwing him off, so unlike his usual self. Always on the passive side, he had never been so blatant in his desire to be away from someone, especially not Sebastian, who was his closest if only friend. With the doubts in himself growing, it stung more than it should have, and rotted his reserve of tact down to nothing.

"Well, tell Undertaker hello from me," Sebastian leaned his weight back against the door, crossing his feet at the ankles, "I've been busy too. Have you noticed?"

Agni looked momentarily disarmed, as though he had expected Sebastian to say something different than he had.

"Um, well, you haven't been on the ward very often. I thought you were probably doing night shifts again."

"No, not night shifts," Sebastian answered, sounding bored, "I've been down on the other ward." As he said those words, he watched Agni's face, searching for even the faintest twitch. Even the barest hint of recognition or alarm would be answer enough. It was not a difficult search. There was nothing faint about it, a shout rather than a whisper. Agni's face became ashen disconcertingly quick. Alarm was present in his eyes, as expected, but curiously enough, so was _guilt._

And immediately, Sebastian was unsure of the footing beneath him. Why was guilt what filled him when the other ward was brought up? Was Ciel wrong – had Agni _not_ gotten away from that hellish room unscathed? Or rather, with his hands still clean?

“Oh, right,” was all Agni had to say in response.

“Yes, lovely little place. Friendly atmosphere, if not in need of a bit of a hoovering. So you know about it then?” Sebastian asked, maintaining as much levity as he could. Guilt, _why guilt?_ The more he puzzled over it, the more it felt like the ground was crumbling away beneath his feet, leaving less and less room to stand upon.

“Know _of_ it,” Agni gave a little shrug, attention flicking away once more, “I've never had much to do with it myself. I've always been up here.”

_Liar._

Sebastian's temper grew short, but it was the panic that knocked him for six. It was only as the chances of it were slipping away that he realized how much hope he had placed in Agni providing him with some miracle solution.

“That's odd,” Sebastian replied with a casualness he did not feel. If Agni was going to lie to his face, then why shouldn't he do the same? “Doctor said otherwise.”

Agni's jaw clenched.

“He must be mistaken.”

Sebastian hadn't heard that tone from Agni since their argument over Soma. And speak of the devil, that same person was slowly approaching them, steps hesitant and eyes bright with worry.  
“Agni, just _tell_ me,” Sebastian snapped, patience gone, “I don't care what you did. I just need to know how you got out of being made to go down there.”

Agni's mouth moved silently for a moment. It wasn't speechlessness but too many words ready to be given yet swallowed back. An answer, Sebastian's answer, the one he needed more than anything right now. But Agni reigned it in, harboured it to himself like a treasure.

What he did say was no comfort at all.

“I'm _sorry,_ Sebastian.”

And then Soma was there, invading their moment, closing the conversation before Sebastian could respond. Before he could demand the growing answers he needed.

_What did you do?_

_Can I do it to?_

_Why guilt?_


	24. Chapter 24

Mid-August and summer had finally arrived in England, at least for a few days. The entire country was simultaneously complaining about the weather and shutting down all functioning in order to enjoy it. In that respect, St. Victoria's was no different.

The sun bore down on St. Victoria's neglected garden. Patients sprawled across the uncut grass, most of them enjoying the heat and fresh air, a certain few grumbling and hiding in the shadow of trees. A handful of the staff milled about, only half keeping an eye on their charges. With this heat, it was unlikely any of them would have the energy for grand escape plans, after all.

Alois' hand was slippery as he pulled Luka away from the larger group. Luka's was dry as a bone in his grip, but he chose not to notice that fact. He was choosing not to notice a lot of things these days.

There was a cluster of daisies a few feet from the wall. It was the sole splash of white upon the yellowing yard of grass. Alois made a beeline for the spot before anyone else could beat him to it, determined to have the sole pretty place in the garden for them. If that spot just happened to be out of earshot from all the others, it was a nice bonus.

"There are no bumblebees," Luka observed glumly.

"Good," Alois replied, sticking his tongue out. "You only like them because of the name. Any time one comes near you, you run away."

"Not true!" Luka objected, "I really like 'em! They have cool colours, and they're all fuzzy too. They're cool."

"You weren't saying that when that one stung you. Remember?"

"That wasn't even a bumblebee. That was a wasp." Luka pursed his lips, shaking his head. "It's those I don't like."

Alois liked that memory. It was one of his favourites of theirs. Luka had only been a few months younger than he looked now, and he wouldn't stop crying until Alois had held his hand for the sting to be sorted out. No one else had managed to make him stop crying, no matter how hard they had tried, if only for the sake of peace and quiet. It had sort of felt like having a special power. Alois had definitely felt special that day.

"Do they ever let you have honey here?" Luka asked curiously, tearing fistfuls of grass out of the ground.

"No," Alois snorted, "At least, you can't tell it was ever honey by the time it gets to you."

Alois fingered one of the daisies at his side. Its stem was furry to the touch, so thin his finger dwarfed it. He curled his forefinger until it encircled the stalk completely then tore it up from the mud. It took no strength - a flower that tiny would be pulled up with ease - but when he moved on to the next one, he still gave it an unnecessarily forceful yank. Soon enough he had an entire lapful of the flowers.

They didn't look as pretty now that he held them, Alois noticed. Discomfort was a squirming itch at the pit of his stomach, the ground beside him a mess of disturbed dirt.

"I know how you can make them pretty again, Jim!" Luka beamed. He was still tearing up fistfuls of grass from the ground, but no matter how much he ripped away, there was never any less there once his hand returned. Alois decided not to notice that either. "Make a pretty crown!"

Alois smiled.

They used to make each other those little crowns whenever they had time to spare and momentary peace of mind. Alois would make one and give it to Luka. Luka would make one and give it to him. They would wear them until the flower's stems snapped or one of the red-faced adults made them throw them away.

Alois pressed his fingernail into the bottom of the first flower's stem, piercing a large enough hole for the next daisy's stem to fit into it. Again and again, until his fingers were sticky and the flowers on his lap dwindled down to single digits.

"They're all so spindly, I don't know if it'll stay together long," Alois observed, deliberating over which of the flowers left was going to make the final cut. When Luka didn't respond, his attention was immediately pulled away from his task.

Luka _always_ answered him.

Luka was still tearing the seemingly regenerating grass out of the ground but his focus was fixed across the garden. His face, still pudgy with youth, was thunderous. His eyes held more hate than Alois would have thought possible, lips drawl back in a snarl more befitting of an animal than a little boy. He bared his teeth as though ready to bite.

Alois' stomach dropped. Luka had never held an expression like that before. Despite the life they had led, there had never been enough hate in his heart to reflect on his face like that. Yet it was a familiar expression, none the less.

"L-Luka," Alois said on a breath, "Hey, look, which flower do you think will be strong enough to be the linking one?"

Luka answered this time, though it was the thread of a different conversation that he pulled at.

"He thinks he's better than us."

Alois' hands stilled, the daisy crown sitting limply in his lap. Across the stretch of grass, Ciel was sprawled out in the shade of a tree, pulling a sour face as though the nice weather was designed simply to annoy him. As always, he wasn't alone, Soma and Freckles on each side of him and chattering away to each other happily. Even as Ciel sat in resistant silence, he still looked like he belonged between them, so effortlessly one of the group.

Luka tore at the grass more viciously.

"Don't take it personally," Alois said with a flippancy he didn't feel, a smile that felt unnatural on his lips, "He thinks he's better than everyone."

"Why?" Luka asked, in that way children had. Questioning everything, tearing down the most complex of problems to one simple word.

Alois struggled to answer.

"He's not better than us," Luka asserted, voice sounding deeper than Alois remembered it. Memories couldn't be trusted, though. He was just remembering wrong. It was what was right in front of him that was the truth and he would trust that. "Just because Claude pays attention to him. He's _not_ better than me ---"

Alois' mouth was watery with sudden nausea. For a moment, the ground beneath him seemed to tilt, tried to tip him off of it. He just about caught himself from falling on to his side, clinging to fistfuls of grass as though they would keep him attached to earth. His head swam, the world slipping out of focus, out of solidity as though it were made of fresh and running paint, and he clenched his eyes shut as tight as they would go.

And as abruptly as it had begun, it ended.

"Jim, the crown," Luka said with a whine. His voice was soft and high again, not that shadow of adulthood that it had been moments before. His face was wiped clear of any anger, any hatred, just a pout as Alois crushed some of the crown's flower links between his shaking hands. He released the crown immediately, letting it drop limply back in to his lap.

"Don't ---" Alois' voice cracked, his throat still thick with the threat of throwing up, "Don't say stuff like that, okay? He's ... He's my friend."

Luka gave a puzzled frown.

"Don't say what stuff?"

Alois didn't answer, looking out across the stretch of grass. Freckles had run off to her other friends, but Soma stayed with Ciel, chattering away and uncaring that he wasn't getting any response. Ciel was pretending to sleep, no doubt in hopes that Soma would shut up. Still, Alois thought, if he really wanted quiet, he would have just walked away.

There was an unpleasant queasiness twisting at Alois' stomach that had nothing to do with feeling ill. He knew what it was, but he rejected that feeling, replaced it by force with guilt, guilt on behalf of Luka's angry words.

"Where're you going?" Luka asked as Alois stood. When Alois didn't answer, he trailed reluctantly behind him, looking more and more upset as they walked over to the tree.

"Err, hi," Soma greeted with false friendliness. Soma didn't like him. He  had never forgiven him for Ciel's eye. Did Ciel like him better, Alois wondered. He couldn't understand why he would. Soma was so false. False cheer, false niceties, false false _false_.

 _Stop it_ , Alois scolded himself, the guilt coiling tighter in his stomach.

"Hi," Alois replied. His discomfort rang clear.

"Jim, what about our flowers?" Luka whispered, as though worried the other two would hear him. Alois wished they would. "Someone's gonna take our spot."

Alois ignored him.

"Ahh, you've really caught the sun! Sit here for a bit, it's nice and cool." Soma grinned, patting the grass beside him. Alois struggled to see the strain in his smile but he knew it couldn't be genuine, not when it was directed at him. As the silence drew out, it dimmed slightly.

Ciel cracked his eye open a bit, just enough to avoid the full glare of the sunlight.

"It's too hot," Ciel said unprompted, as though Alois could do anything about the weather.

"He's moody because he's already got sunburn," Soma said in a mock whisper, sticking his tongue out when Ciel rolled his eye, "Oh, that's nice! Can I have a look?"

Soma reached for the flower crown.

" _No, it's not for them!"_ Luka shrieked, eyes beginning to shine with the promise of tears. The expression twisted as soon as Alois looked back at him, however, and upset turned to aggression. The snarl was back, the voice unrecognizable as Luka's when he continued, "He doesn't deserve it. He's _not_ better, he's not, _he's not!"_

Alois stumbled over his own feet as he moved as quickly as he could from Soma's outstretched hand. He saw Soma's face fall but the meaning of that didn't register at all. Soma was superfluous to him, always had been.

The guilt was a splinter burrowed too deep beneath his skin. Too difficult to get rid of, impossible to ignore, the pain a constant pin prick.

Ciel opened his eye fully now, propping himself up on his elbows. He glanced behind Alois with confusion, and Alois had a moment of hope. Ciel would see Luka. Ciel would talk to Luka and show Luka he wasn't bad. Luka wouldn't get scary like that anymore. Everything would be fixed.

But no, Alois realized, he was just looking to see why Alois had suddenly snapped around like that. Confusion, because he _couldn't_ see anything.

"Alois," Ciel began, his voice so cautious Alois wanted to scream, "You've been sat in the sun too long. Sit in the shade for a bit. Cool off."

They were both staring at him now with what could have been concern. Luka had fallen so silent behind him that Alois wasn't sure he was even still there, but he dared not turn around to look again. Ciel was still shooting furtive looks behind him.

"Here," Alois said, not as steadily as he would have liked.

He offered the flower crown to Ciel. After a moment of hesitation, Ciel carefully took it from him, looking even more confused now. He opened his mouth to speak, probably to ask what the hell was wrong with Alois, so Alois turned on his heel and walked away as slowly as he could stand to.

He wasn't entirely surprised to find that Luka was no longer in the gardens.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Sweat beading on his forehead, Sebastian slumped against the wall and waited. The wrench hung limply from his hand.

His fifteenth short-lived job had been as a plumber. Good pay, generally unpleasant work. He had liked the technical aspect of it, so many different parts forming together to create a cohesive system, a guessing game of which minute area had become a fault that stopped all the other parts from working. But he hadn't liked when the guessing game became as predictable as a well-read book. If X was the issue, then Y was undoubtedly the problem. Day in, day out, until the monotony had rotted Sebastian's patience down to nothing. He had lasted six months in the job. A record for him, until now.

One thing he had taken from that job was a faultless knowledge of the older plumbing systems. Anything post-2010 would be like a foreign language he didn't speak, he was sure, but anything developed in the fifteen years before that was like revisiting an old friend.

Fortunately for him, and unfortunately for Agni, St. Victoria's had not had their plumbing system upgraded since 2002.

Lying at his feet were a dozen bolts in varying degrees of rust and two very important connecting pipes. Without those integral parts, the shower on the second floor of the residential building wouldn't work. Agni, after a morning spent slaving and sweating over supply order forms in an office without air conditioning and desperate for a shower now the work was done, would be discovering this unfair fact any moment now.

A small dose of karma, if nothing else.

Sebastian was happy to wait. He calculated at least fifteen to twenty minutes before Agni connected the dots and came down to the boiler room to see if he could sort out the shower issue. He wouldn't have a chance to do that before he would be faced with the more worrying issue of a locked door, a small room and an angry Sebastian with a wrench.

It was answers Sebastian wanted, not violence. But his temper was a simmering thing, needing the smallest of catalysts these days. He refused to let it control him - _you're angrier than I ever was -_ and he was sure, in a desperate clutching at straws way, that if he just got the answer he needed, he would be able to reign himself in once again.

That all depended on Agni finally talking, however. Sebastian wasn't holding his breath. He had a lot of questions for Agni; why had he looked so guilty yesterday; what had he done to avoid being trapped on Ward V; but more than anything now, the question that had become constant background noise in his mind was this:  _why did you invite me here?_

For the past months, Sebastian had given Agni the benefit of ignorance. Surely he didn't know what was really going on at St. Victoria's and what he had thrown Sebastian into, because if he did, then he would never have encouraged Sebastian to apply for a job there in the first place. Their friendship aside, Agni would never inflict a place like St. Victoria's on another person.

But he had. Had planted the idea in his head, encouraged it as it grew into a decision Sebastian would give anything to go back and change. He had even passed his application on to the Chairmen. Sebastian had thought nothing more of it than wondering if Agni was lonely in England, and sure the job would be entertaining enough for a month or two, he hadn't thought twice about coming to see an old friend. 

 _Wrong,_ Sebastian thought now, hand tightening around the wrench,  _whatever reason he brought me here for, it wasn't out of sentiment._

He would find out just what that reason was now. Neither of them would be leaving the boiler room until he did.

Footsteps sounded from outside the door. The handle turned with an aged creak. Sebastian put his free hand just in front of his chest, stopping the door quietly before it could hit him and then, as Agni walked further inside the small room, he pushed it shut, the lock sliding into place with a loud click. Agni spun around, alarm bright in his eyes. 

"Just me," Sebastian said, stepping forward. Unsurprisingly, that didn't seem to calm Agni's nerves. His eyes flicked to the wrench in Sebastian's hand. "Don't worry, it's easy to fix. Should only take, oh, ten minutes? I could use a second pair of hands though."

Eyes downcast and mouth set in a hard line, Agni wasn't even about to pretend he didn't know what was going on. Feigning ignorance had gotten him nowhere but in Sebastian's bad books. There was a resolution in him though, Sebastian could see, that he still wasn't going to give up any answers easily. That was a glimpse of the Agni he remembered. For all his readiness to bow his head, he had never been weak willed.

"Happy to help," Agni replied, a beat too late to seem natural. 

They worked mostly in silence at first, save for a few quiet instructions from Sebastian. Now that he had finally succeeded in trapping Agni in a room with him, the questions he wanted to ask abandoned him. He knew what he wanted to know, but the words to get to those answers had all but evaporated from his tongue. Conversation had always come easily to him so long as it was meaningless. Meaningful things, things that would actually impact on him and his life, he struggled with those. Now the moment was there, he was almost afraid of the answer. 

"Agni," Sebastian began, hands pausing as they moved a bolt back into place. "It's obvious you've ... done something you're ashamed of. I know you've been involved with Ward V; Doctor said so, and for all that he's as mad as a bag of cats, he's not much for lying, from what I've seen. He has no reason to lie about this. Whereas you have all the reason to."

Agni just looked at him steadily, silently. 

"I'm not asking for gory details here. Whatever you did, it worked. Great. No judgement. Just tell me what it was, as little as you like, just the gist, so I can do it too _."_  Sebastian let the wrench drop from his hand with a dull clank, shifting on his knees to be facing Agni fully. Agni was completely still. "That ward, those patients, I can't keep doing it. The idea of - of just,  _obeying_ their orders is becoming too easy to imagine. Agni, I don't want to end up like them. And I'm talking about both of them; the Ward V patients and the staff. But I am buckling here because I can't find another way."

Sebastian rose to be fully on his knees, reaching out to grab Agni's arm. 

"You did. You got out, Agni, and you got out in one piece.  _How?"_

Slowly, Agni removed Sebastian's hand from his arm. There was something entirely wooden about his movements, the way his voice sounded when he said, "You."

Agni had spoken so quietly that Sebastian was sure he had misheard. The moment drew on, a slow drag of dawning realization.

"Me." Sebastian sounded wooden himself now. 

Agni finally faltered, unable to look Sebastian in the eye. The guilt was back. Oddly, it made him look tired, as though the effort of keeping it hidden for well over a year now had been so utterly exhausting.

It made him look like a different person, someone Sebastian didn't know.

"When I first came here, to England, no one would hire me. They're a xenophobic people,  the English. I have a Masters in engineering but I was being turned away at the door for any relevant job I went in for. The money I'd saved ran out quickly. It got to the point where I had to choose between paying the rent and eating. I started applying for anything, regardless of whether I was over-qualified.

"When I answered the vacancy advert for St. Victoria's, I wasn't expecting any response. Jobs like this, you'd usually need all sorts of qualifications just to be allowed in the building, anywhere near the patients. Not to mention the training you'd have to undergo once you were taken on. But I did get a response; they wanted me to start immediately. It meant a roof over my head, a steady wage, I'd be earning my own way in the world. I didn't even question it, Sebastian, I wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. So I came here."

Agni paused, choosing his next words carefully. Sebastian held his tongue and waited, hands shaking minutely in his lap.

"That should have been my first clue that something was wrong with this place. Mental health hospitals, places like this, they have all sorts of protocols in place, rules and regulations to follow about every little detail. Taking staff on - people who are going to be in charge of vulnerable and dangerous people - they need to run security checks, see if they have criminal records, at least a basic knowledge of nursing in some shape or form. But they didn't go through any of that with me. And all I thought was that I was lucky."

Agni gave a self-deprecating laugh, eyes still trained on the floor.

"I still remember the first ... I wouldn't call it a suspicion, but the first moment where I felt something wasn't right. There was a man who used to work here, his name was Aleister. Tanaka instructed him to show me around, so I saw a lot of him. He was the one who introduced me to the patients for the first time. And ... he was _odd._ He would pay little attention to the male patients, he would even ignore Beast and Freckles, but he wouldn't leave Wendy alone. It was never anything overt. He wouldn't touch her, from what I saw, but he made her very uncomfortable, and it didn't sit right with me. But that wasn't the thing that first struck me about St. Victoria's. It was when I tried to report it. The Chairmen were _gone._

"A place like this, there had to be rules about that sort of thing. With three Chairmen, how could it be possible that all three were gone at the same time? And that was always the case, Sebastian. I kept trying to get to see them, one of them at least, but they were never here. It was like Angela was running the place. So ... I went to her. About Aleister. I told her about what I thought, what I'd seen, and she told me she'd take care of it. A few days later, she let me know that they'd fired him. I was glad, but ... It would be a while before I found out what had actually happened to him."

Sebastian's hands clenched, his legs aching from the awkward kneeling position he was in.

"As interesting as this all is, it's not what I want to know," he said, eerily calm, "What does this Aleister man have to do with me?"

"Sebastian, that's my point," Agni replied, finally looking at him, "He has everything to do with us. He _is_ us. What happened to him, it's what can happen to us as soon as we step out of line. Don't you recognize the name? I know you know it. It was why we argued back then, wasn't it? You saw it in Soma's file. Aleister, Aleister _Chambers."_

Sebastian already had the denial ready to spit back at Agni, accusations of changing the subject, and did he think Sebastian was an idiot? But the name was familiar. And as he let himself be distracted, wondering all the while if that was Agni's goal, he remembered just where he had seen it before.

A file on Claude Faustus' desk. A record of Soma's only confinement in The Room. Punishment for the murder of an Orderly, Aleister Chambers.

"No, that," Sebastian struggled to find his words, shaking his head, "That makes no sense. The file said that Soma tricked Chambers into taking him outside and attacked him there. That's why Soma was put in The Room. He wasn't fired."

Agni hung his head again, a shame Sebastian was trying to understand in his eyes.

"They only decided that that had happened six months after Aleister was _fired_ by Angela. Because ... because Soma and I became close in that time. Closer than I should have let us become. And when they saw that happening, they decided it was time to introduce me to Ward V."

Legs aching too much now, Sebastian sat fully on the floor, resigned to the fact that he was going nowhere any time soon. There were still bolts lying on the floor between them, the faulty plumbing long forgotten.

"They sent you to Ward V because of Soma," Sebastian said, needing to repeat the fact out loud.

"And they sent you to Ward V because of Ciel," Agni confirmed Sebastian's suspicion, "But it ... it's not a punishment, at least that's not how they intend it. And it's not so much _because_ we developed some sort of relationship with a patient. It's not direct cause and effect. They always intend for us to end up on Ward V, but the wait, the ... _initiation_ is supposed to be longer. Our sympathising with a patient so openly is what makes them think they're _losing_ us in a way, or that's the impression I've gotten. It's when they think we're more on the patient's side than theirs that they throw is into Ward V ahead of schedule."

It made sense, in a warped sort of way. The main ward was straight-forward enough, a place where the staff could gauge their personalities, their empathy, how far they would be willing to go to help the patients. The main ward was the opening act. Ward V was the show, St. Victoria's pride. If they couldn't handle the main ward, like Agni's inability to hold his tongue about Aleister's inappropriate behaviour towards Wendy, then Ward V was a goal very far in the distance. But sympathy was one thing, whereas a genuine friendship, or something more as the case may be, was too dangerous to allow to develop. So Ward V was introduced prematurely, a heavy-handed attempt at initiating a change in them.

"You're asking me how I got out of Ward V unscathed, and the answer is that I didn't. No one does. The moment I saw that place, something inside of me just ... _snapped._ Those poor people, Sebastian. They're so helpless, caged up like animals. It's inhumane. And the things they expected me to do to them."

Agni's eyes screwed shut, words failing him. Even now, presumably a long time since he had been on Ward V, it still haunted him. It turned Sebastian's stomach, seeing such raw compassion from Agni. How it compared to the borderline disgust Sebastian felt whenever he looked at the Ward V patients and had to remind himself not to refer to them as Its.

"And did you do them?"

Agni opened his eyes slowly, jaw slack. Remembering. Regretting.

"Yes."

"By the time I was on Ward V, I already knew what this place was capable of. Peter disappearing, how they mutilated Joker, and then all of that with Finny. I was already well aware of what they could do to me," Sebastian said, voice flat, "But you weren't. What's your excuse, Agni? How did you justify following their orders?"

Agni seemed completely incapable of answering for a good few minutes, face falling at Sebastian's words. With all that build-up, perhaps he had hoped to avoid exactly that question, but Sebastian was pulling no punches anymore. Not now he knew what Agni had done, throwing him to the wolves without a care.

It was Agni's fault he was here, in this situation, being forced to make these decisions. All to save his own skin.

"They _convinced_ me," Agni murmured after a few minutes of silence, so quietly Sebastian almost missed it.

"They convinced you," Sebastian parroted tonelessly.

"That it was what they needed. They were worse off than the other patients, so the treatment had to be more intense in order to have any effect, to get through to them at all." Agni couldn't meet his eyes again, staring down at his clenched hands with shame. "They didn't ask me to hurt them, not at first. I just had to restrain them, or rinse them down with a hose, just little things that made it easier to handle them."

The desensitization. Restraining, washing, cutting hair.

"But then, then it got worse. I know it's different now but back then they didn't have each of the patients in their own separate cubicle --" Sebastian couldn't help but scoff at the word choice, to Agni's annoyance, "-- _cage,_ then. On each side of the room, there was just one large one. So of course fights broke out between them. The first time it happened when I was there, they wanted me to break it up. I was hesitant - getting in the middle of a fight between two of them was to have a death wish - so I tried dousing them with water. It only distracted them for a few minutes, then they were back at each other again. If anything, they were more vicious now. They called Phipps and Grey down, and I knew that wasn't right, they were part of the psychiatric department. And they had, these, they were like police batons, and the two of them just _attacked_ the patients. Beat them senseless, kept going long after the patients had stopped fighting back."

The sheer disgust Agni was feeling was making it difficult for him to even get the words out, Sebastian could tell, and even though it had been a long time ago, he still sounded as horrified by what he had saw now as he had been at the time.

"And then they gave _me_ a baton, _"for the future."_ It was all just so matter of fact, Sebastian. No one blinked an eye. No one said a word to the two of them about it. And I realized, that's because it _was_ a matter of fact. That was what they did. They just hadn't been doing it in front of me."

Agni sat up then, the shame fading.

"I couldn't just let it lie."

Sebastian frowned, "What do you mean?"

"I'd had suspicions that something was wrong. At least in terms of health and safety, I had grounds to complain. But now I had the real proof I needed," Agni replied, "I'd seen brutality against the patients, basically had it confirmed that it was par for the course. So, I could report it to the authorities."

Sebastian sat up straight, attention finally pulled away from his own anger.

"You reported it?"

"Yes. As you know, it's more hassle than it's worth trying to dodge the red tape to leave the grounds without good reason and permission from the higher ups, and trying to leave right after that had happened would only be giving them warning enough to cover their tracks. So I wrote letters. I wrote to the local police, I wrote to social services, and I wrote to the only address I could find for the Chairmen."

"I'm imagining there's a _but_."

Agni met his eyes again, devoid of expression.

"But I woke up three days later to find two of the letters on my desk. The one to the police, and the one to social services. They had never been opened. And next to them, a reply from the third letter."

"What did it say?"

_"'Your concerns will be taken into consideration.'"_

"So they know," Sebastian said, more to himself than to Agni," The Chairmen know what's happening here."

"One of them does," Agni replied, "And they don't care."

Silence fell between them, each lost in their own thoughts.

Sebastian played idly with the wrench, twirling it around in one hand then passing it over to the other, letting himself focus on the cool metal in his hands rather than the implications of what Agni was telling him. Agni hadn't mentioned Tanaka or Undertaker by name then, so was it the unknown Third Chairman his letter had reached?  If so, what did that mean about the other Chairmen? Did they know what was happening in their Institution, and if they did, did they care?

The two letters to the police and social services had been stopped before ever reaching their destination. That struck Sebastian more than the reply Agni had received. If anything, _that_ had been the message the Third Chairman had been sending. That they had the power to do that, more power than the police or social services. An amazing foresight, or rather, they were watching Agni, watching what he was doing, and ready to retaliate in kind.

"You said they only decided Soma had killed Chambers six months after he was fired," Sebastian picked up the thread of conversation again, "What did you mean?"

Agni rubbed at his eyes wearily, exhausted by the entire conversation.

"I knew as soon as I first stepped foot in Ward V that Angela had lied. Aleister was there, in the cage, one of _them._ I don't know what they did to him but he wasn't the same man any more. They'd broken him, I suppose, though I don't understand what for. My guess would be that they were more interested in me and what I might do than they were with him by that point, so when I complained about him, they took the opportunity to get rid of him.

"The day I found the letters in my room, I didn't know what to do. I had a shift on the main ward so I just ... went. Got dressed, ate breakfast, went up to the ward and tried to forget all about the letters. It wasn't until gone noon that I realized something was wrong.

"Soma has never been an early riser, but he always gets up before twelve. Says he feels like his day is wasted if he isn't. But that day, twelve came and passed, and nothing. So I start to worry - what if he's sick, or upset about something and hiding away in his room? So I go over to see."

"He wasn't there," Sebastian guessed. Agni nodded.

"It doesn't even register at first. I'm just confused, wondering where he is. And then Ciel comes over. And, this was long before you knew him, he was ... different back then. He'd been at St. Victoria's awhile but not long enough. He was still angry, quick to a temper, hadn't learned to control himself yet. And he comes over to me, hostile as anything, and says, ' _they took him last night.'_ And it's an accusation, Sebastian. I could hear him telling me that it was my fault. It hadn't even occurred to me yet, but as soon as he told me Soma was gone, it all just clicked."

"They took Soma to The Room to punish you for the letters," Sebastian said, "To warn you to stay in line."

Agni had a face like thunder then, the anger at least two years old but still as fresh as that day.

"I go to Angela, because if it's anyone, it's her. And she starts telling me this story, all these little details, she'd learnt it like a script. Aleister had never been fired, what was I talking about? Aleister had been murdered three days ago - _the day I sent those letters -_ by Soma. Soma had lured him out into the gardens somehow. Once they were alone, he'd attacked him, stuck him in the neck with a pen he'd stolen from somewhere. By the time Angela and Ash came across them, poor Aleister was long dead. Soma was trying to make a run for it. But fortunately, they managed to catch him before he could escape. For the safety of everyone, Soma was put into solitary confinement, with considerations being made for him to be moved down to Ward V."

Sebastian closed his eyes, the pieces finally falling into place for him.

"You made a deal, didn't you, Agni?"

When Sebastian opened them, Agni was meeting his eyes shamelessly.

"Yes. And I'm so sorry for it, but I can't say I wouldn't do it again, if I had to repeat it all."

"What was the deal?" Sebastian asked, calmer than he felt.

And Agni explained, just as calmly, "I would keep my mouth shut. Soma would be returned to the main ward without any further harm done. I wouldn't be required to go to Ward V ever again. In exchange, I would ... I would bring someone else here, in my place. Someone who wouldn't make the same mistakes that I had."

"Me."

"You."

Silence fell between them again.

The same mistakes, he said. Showing compassion to the patients. Refusing to do harm to the patients. Developing a relationship with a particular patient. Well, one out of three was close enough, Sebastian supposed. Sebastian wasn't offended that Agni had believed him incapable enough of compassion to nominate him for the role. It was less Agni's opinion of him and more the fact that he was really the only friend Agni had. _Had_ being the key word.

Sebastian rose to his feet, steadier than he felt.

"I _am_ sorry, for what it's worth," Agni said as Sebastian made his way to the door, "I never thought you'd stay long enough for there to be consequences."

If Agni had just stayed silent, Sebastian would have walked out of the room without a word. There had been a stillness in his chest where anger had been bubbling away for weeks, but when Agni spoke again, with the flimsiest of justifications, the anger erupted.

Before he knew what he was doing, Sebastian had picked up the wrench again and swung it down at his still-kneeling friend. Agni only just dodged the attack, the wrench crashing into the wall beside his head. Plaster crumbled away in a white cloud, a web of cracks sunken deep into the surface of the wall.

Sebastian dropped the wrench, suddenly breathless. His chest heaved as he struggled to draw a breath but choked on every attempt, as though something was blocking his airway.

"Hit me, if it'll help," Agni said, kicking away the fallen wrench. He eyed Sebastian with swelling concern as his breathing became more and more laboured.

Hands balled into fists, it was only too tempting to throw a punch at Agni, but all Sebastian could think about was how smothering that tiny room was. There wasn't enough air in there. They had used it all up, sucked it away with revelations and betrayal. If he stayed there, he would suffocate, and maybe that was what Agni wanted. To have him die at St. Victoria's in Soma's place, in Agni's place.

"Sebastian, breathe." Agni had stood up, was taking Sebastian's hand and placing it on his own chest. It rose and fell in a steady rhythm beneath Sebastian's sweat slick hand. "You need to calm down. Just breathe me with, alright?"

Agni's touch was like a shock of cold water. No, like a shackle around his hand trapping him in the boiler room until all the air ran out, until the walls all crumbled and collapsed upon him from the hit of the wrench. He'd be buried like a secret, all of Agni's guilt gone in one fell swoop.

"Sebastian!" Agni called after him, recovering from the forceful shove. A moment too late, as Sebastian had already bolted for the door, fumbling with the lock he had done himself. His legs felt like rubber, barely able to carry him as he escaped from that suffocating room.

Not his bedroom, that was the first place Agni would go if he wanted to pursue him. Not the ward, he couldn't let Ciel see him in this state, pathetically gasping and afraid at nothing, everything. Sebastian just ran without a destination in mind, just _away away away_.

The garden.

He could hear the voices of the patients - Dagger shouting at Joker for something, Beast shouting back at Dagger, Dagger bemoaning being shouted at by his beloved sister, laughter from the rest - so turned the other way, slowing his run to a swift walk until he could no longer hear any voices.

He had come a distance, recognized the area. He was close to the window of the Ward V back room. Sebastian stopped where he was, dropping to the ground gracelessly, unwilling to stray any closer to that place.

His breathing was slowing down now. The breaths came easier to him. The panic that had descended on him like an inescapable fog was abating.

For something to do with his hands, he plucked at the grass, pulling fistfuls out and letting them float back down to the floor like falling confetti. Soon enough, the ground around him was patchy, broken strands of grass littered everywhere. By the time he was finding nothing but dirt to pull at, he was breathing slowly and steadily.

Hands caked with mud, Sebastian stood and made his way back to the residential building.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Ciel walked slower than was necessary, leaving several paces between himself and Dr. Faustus. It may well have been enough room for silence personified to walk with them, for all the words that had been shared between them since Claude had collected him from the garden.

Ciel had a visitor, a rare event at the institute. It had been seven months since Ann had last come to see him, something he hadn't even realized until today. She would be guilty, he knew, but he could hardly blame her for hating coming to St. Victoria's. Besides, her wedding had long since passed, so she was no doubt distracted by her new life of wedded bliss.

He was happy for her, in a detached sort of way. He hoped she was happy, in the same sort of way he hoped for a character he was fond of not to die by the end of the book, or to at least have a suitably poignant death scene.

The flower crown Alois had given him was still dangling from his hand, his fingers smudged with mud from holding it too long. He had almost considered putting it on, if only to see if it would startle a smile from Alois. Alois had fled too quickly for the thought to become anything more than a thought, though.

It was the first time Alois had spoken to him in weeks. It hadn't put any of his concerns at ease.

Claude slowed his pace to be in step with Ciel. Ciel resisted the temptation to drastically speed up.

"It was a shame you couldn't go to the wedding," Claude said, "I did try to arrange it, but I couldn't get the permission from the Chairmen. I hope your Aunt wasn't too disappointed."

The unsettling thing was that Claude _had_ done his best to get Ciel to the wedding, as though extending some sort of olive branch. It was when he made efforts to be kind that Ciel was most ill at ease. He preferred outright malice. At least that was easy to decipher.

"I doubt I was missed," Ciel replied shortly, keeping his gaze straight ahead.

"I imagine she'll have brought pictures to show you," Claude guessed, and Ciel knew he wouldn't be far from the mark, "When you get fed up of looking at them, give me a sign and I'll say you need to get back to the ward."

Ciel bristled. That was far too spot on a gesture to make with him. It had been a while since he had been the focus of Claude's attention, he had forgotten how close to the crux of him Claude could be at times.

"Since you failed to get me to the wedding, why wouldn't I want to look at the pictures?" Ciel replied, just to be difficult. He knew he was condemning himself to at least an hour of pretending to care about bridesmaid's dresses and far too many angles of cutting the cake, but it was the price he was willing to pay to pretend Claude didn't have him as well pegged as he did.

Claude stopped walking, placing an unwelcome hand on Ciel's shoulder. Ciel froze immediately, angry at himself for giving Claude exactly the reaction he wanted.

"I _am_ sorry. The Chairmen were almost on board, so long as I accompanied you, but ... then you had that little outburst in my office. I kept it as under wraps as possible, but very little happens here that at least one of the Chairmen don't hear about." Claude sounded genuinely apologetic. It made Ciel's skin crawl. "Should such an occasion arise again, I'll do my utmost to ensure that you can go, you have my word. But it would require co-operation from you too, Ciel. You'd have to be on your best behaviour."

Immediately, Ciel's thoughts went to Lizzie's wedding, only a few months away. December, he was sure, having reread that letter more times than he cared to admit. It was just like her to want a Winter wedding. But Claude didn't know about Lizzie's engagement, so surely Ciel was just imagining the suggestion of Claude's words.

"I'm hardly overwhelmed with invitations to social events. Next time I'm invited to a Gala Night, you'll be the first person I tell," Ciel replied cuttingly, shrugging Claude's hand off of him.

Claude didn't try to walk beside Ciel again, no reply to his words forthcoming.

Ciel wasn't stupid enough to think of that as any sort of win.

"You've gotten taller again!" Ann beamed as Ciel walked into the visiting room. She was the sole splash of colour in the dull cream-walled room. Her shock of red hair was piled high on her head in an elegant French knot, her crimson dress more suited to a fancy party than visiting family. It had no doubt been on a runway in Milan all of a week ago. Her shoes looked lethal, the heels closer to blades than anything else, but she walked in them effortlessly.

She hadn't changed at all.

"I would hope so," Ciel replied, letting a small smile show when he was sure his back was to Claude.

Ann gathered him in her arms, crushing him to her chest. Her heels made her even taller than she already was, his head level with her breasts. She found nothing but amusement when he flushed a red to match her dress and pulled away.

"Taller, but no more mature, clearly." She winked, softening the edge from the comment. She gave a cheery wave to Claude then pulled Ciel to sit at the furthest table, where no-one could over hear them without actively trying.

Her smile fell immediately.

"I'm so sorry I haven't come sooner."

From her expression, one would think she was confessing a terrible sin. No doubt that's exactly how she felt. Ciel knew what she wanted to hear - _it's alright, I don't mind, I'm fine -_ but as easy as it would have been to say that, he didn't much feel like placating her guilt.

"You shouldn't feel obligated to come see me," he said instead, not bothering to keep the edge out of his voice.

She could take that one of two ways.

_Please don't feel obligated to come see me. You have a life of your own, I understand._

_I'm not an obligation. Either come or don't._

Even Ciel wasn't quite sure which one he was saying.

Ann didn't look particularly put out by the attitude, smiling sadly.

"How can I not?"

Ciel didn't know how to respond to that, so he didn't. Fortunately, Ann was never one for awkward silences, so quickly changed the topic.

"I have good news."

Ann was barely containing her smile now. It always threw Ciel off how quickly she could flip-flop between different subjects, different emotions, as though her thoughts were racing so quickly that the rest of her couldn't keep up. He knew he struggled to keep up.

"Oh?"

Ann shuffled her chair around the corner of the table to be sat beside him, taking hold of one of his hands. Her touch didn't make him cringe away as it would have done months before.

"I was dying to come tell you as soon as we found out but Arthur convinced me to wait. All things considered, we wanted to be sure it was certain before telling people." Ann squeezed his hand tightly, her smile a glowing thing. "And you're the first person I wanted to tell, so; we're pregnant."

Ciel's mouth worked silently for a moment too long, words just beyond his reach. When he regained his tongue, all he managed to say was, "Oh."

"Please, contain your joy," Ann chided, only half serious. She was too happy herself to find any unhappiness in anyone else, even though there was a spark of something negative in Ciel upon hearing those words.

"Sorry," Ciel shook his head, squeezing her hand in return, "It's just ... is it going to be alright? For you?"

It was only half a memory to him now - nights when Ann showed up at their Renbon home, inconsolable in the most silent of ways. She would be odd with him those times. Overly affectionate then terribly cold by turns. He hadn't understood at the time, too young to know about such things, but he was older now and saw it all with a new knowledge. His Father's awkward attempts at humour made more sense now. His Mother's own hollow sadness a twin to her sister's, which had baffled him at the time, was painfully obvious now too.

Ann's smile dimmed, but she seemed grateful for the question, for the uncharacteristic consideration.

"I wasn't alright at first. I'd told Arthur about the -- well, he knew what to expect, or what _not_ to expect, as the case may be. So when we found out, it ... wasn't exactly a happy thing. I was so sure I was going to lose it again. He just didn't want me to go through it again." Ann held his hand tighter, almost painfully. "But we've been given the all clear. I'm five months gone now, weekly doctor's visits, though they don't tell me anything I don't already know, of course. It's looking promising, Ciel."

Ciel choked back whatever that negativity inside of him was. He didn't understand it, but it had no place in this conversation, so he locked it away for later consideration. When he summoned up a smile, it wasn't entirely false.

"Then good. Just promise me one thing."

Ann cocked her head questioningly, "That's foreboding. What?"

"Let Arthur pick the name," Ciel replied, "I dread to think what the woman who named my toys things like Amadeus and Tron would call a baby."

"But it's such a wonderful blend of the old and modern!" Ann objected with a bark of laughter.

"Never mind kids on the playground beating them up, I'm fairly sure they'd beat _themselves_ up with any name you picked."

"Fine, fine!" Ann laughed, in that unreserved way she had. He only ever saw anyone laugh like that when she came to visit him. "But you've got to promise me something too then."

Ciel managed not to frown.

Ann sensed his hesitation regardless. Slipping her fingers in between his, she leaned closer, glancing surreptitiously over at Claude. He was pointedly not looking at them in a way that made it obvious he had only just looked away.

"Promise me you'll come see them," Ann said, suddenly serious, "I'll talk to whoever I have to talk to here. I'll make any amount of arrangements I need to. But I want you to meet them. I want them to know you. I consider you as good as their brother already, and I want you involved as much as possible. I know you don't want to play happy families, you've made that clear, and I'm not going to force it if you don't want it. But just meet them, at least once. Please."

Ciel stared down at their joined hands. Even her fingernails were painted a bright red, the varnish sleek and unchipped, her nails manicured flawlessly. His were a mess in comparison, nails bitten right down to the skin. She squeezed his hand, encouraging a response, and he squeezed back.

"Ann, you know I can't promise that," he said, as gently as he could manage. It still came out sounding sharp, even to him.

Ann slid her hand free of his.

"You wouldn't even try?" she asked, downtrodden, "Because I would. I'd do anything I needed to on my side. But it'd be pointless if you didn't. Ciel, this place was never meant to be long term. Do you think I want to see you spend your life here?"

Ciel looked away, towards the door. Unintentionally, he caught Claude's eye. Hating himself for it, he gave the most subtle of nods.

Claude was over to them in an instant.

"I'm afraid we'll have to cut your visit short, Mrs. Durless. Ciel has an appointment at the infirmary for a check-up," Claude said, touching Ciel's shoulder lightly. Ciel didn't let himself freeze this time, resisted the urge to cringe away.

Ann's face shut down.

"He doesn't need to go to the infirmary. He's fine," she said shortly, "This is the first time I've been able to get visiting permission in seven months. I think you can give me another five minutes."

"I apologize for the inconvenience, but he really must keep this appointment," Claude replied smoothly, unfazed, "His health hasn't been the best recently and we need to make sure it's nothing more serious."

"Then I'll see to him," Ann challenged, standing up. In her heels, she easily matched Claude in height. "I treated him all the time when he was little. I'm sure I'm just as qualified as your physician. Lead the way."

" _No,"_  Ciel said before Claude could respond for him. Ann's face fell, something akin to betrayal flashing in her eyes. He ignored it, ignored the pang it caused in his chest. "Go home, Ann."

Ann stared at him, waiting for something. A hint that he was being coerced, possibly. He saw her eye the hand on his shoulder darkly. But no, she let it drop.

As Claude was leading him from the room, steering him by that unwelcome hand on his shoulder, Ann called out again.

"Did you read the letter?"

Claude's hand tensed. Ciel hadn't let him see the letter.

"Yes," Ciel replied, glancing back at her. That seemed to placate her, for some reason. "I didn't write a response. I'm not allowed pens."

"That's alright," Ann said, the smile returning, however dimmed. "Is there any message you want me to pass on to her?"

After a moment's thought, Ciel replied simply, "Tell her congratulations. And ... good luck."

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

"Luka, don't be like that."

Alois stood a distance away, feeling a trespasser in his own bedroom. Even if it was his room, he was unwelcome. Luka refused to look at him, curled up on the bed with his back to the rest of the room. He wasn't asleep. He was too visibly tensed up. He was just ignoring Alois, in a stony way much worse than a normal sulk.

"I'm sorry."

Alois stepped forward. One step, two step, then stopped. It wasn't that he was scared of Luka, not at all. Luka had never been the violent one of them, after all. He was just worried that, if he went straight over to Luka when Luka didn't want him to, then he might just disappear in the blink of an eye. As quickly as he had appeared, as silently as he moved at Alois' side, without a single chance for Alois to stop him from leaving.

Luka wasn't answering. He was refusing to hear him.

Alois tried a different tactic.

"Hey, how about a story, huh? I never finished telling you the one about the Piper's So ---"

"You like him better than me," Luka mumbled softly, sadly.

Alois forced a little laugh, "Who, the Piper's Son? Never met him."

Luka didn't find it funny. He finally looked at Alois, glancing over his shoulder. There was none of the warmth that Alois always expected there. He almost looked hurt, but not quite.

"You like him better than me," Luka stated, brooking no argument, "I may as well not even be here."

That was difficult to answer, the voice in his head that Alois had come to loathe whispering _but you're not._ He shifted from one foot to the other restlessly, letting his focus be on the rough fibres of the carpet rubbing at the soles of his feet, the sound of the other patients just beyond his door, the warning rumble of a storm outside his window.

The heat was breaking so soon. Too soon.

"I honestly don't," Alois replied after a while, when he couldn't distract himself with anything else, "I've always loved you most."

Luka shook his head, a sharp motion that should have made his hair move, but it didn't.

"No. You came here, and you met him, and then you forgot all about me."

"Can I come over there?" Alois asked, only to be shot down with an immediate rejection. He felt too far away to be having this conversation. He needed to be closer, within touching distance, so he could grab Luka and stop him from disappearing again. "Luka, he's the only friend I've ever had here. Of course he matters. But not more than you. You're _family_. I love you more than anything."

Luka sat up, finally facing him properly. Small and cross-legged on the bed, he looked impossibly young. Younger than he ever would have been by now.

"Then prove it," Luka said - _demanded, ordered, that tone was too familiar -_ with a cherubic little smile, "Take the other eye."

The request didn't even surprise Alois, for some reason. He had almost expected it. Closing his own eyes in exasperation more than anything else, he shook his head.

"No, Luka."

"But why not?" Luka whined, as though he had been denied sweets or a new toy, "You already took the first one."

"I said no, Luka." Alois had forgotten what it was like to be firm like this, to have the smallest inch of resolve in himself. The older of the two of them, he had always had to draw the line in the sand, decide the rules and enact them. For a moment, the briefest of moments, he was happy. But then Luka spoke again, and the illusion of their past selves shattered.

"So you do like him better!" Luka spat, hostility a weapon wielded too well, "I may as well not even be here!"

That was a threat, Alois knew, and he wished it didn't strike him as surely as it did. Luka knew exactly what to say, what to do, how to be, all to get in between the chinks in Alois' armour.

It wasn't fair. How could he stand a chance against that?

Alois snapped.

"Ciel, Ciel, Ciel, he's all you talk about now!" he yelled, no mind given to the people just beyond his door, "You're as bad as Claude! What, don't I matter to you now? Why is _he_ all you care about now?! You're supposed to be for me!"

And as the words left Alois' mouth, they were parroted by Luka. They shouted in synch, matched in volume and venom, the voices mingling together until they sounded exactly the same.

When Alois ran out of steam, words trailing off into a frustrated sob, Luka carried on with swelling malice.

"You're _useless_. All you had to do was look after me and you couldn't even do that right. Failed and failed and failed, again and again and again. You do nothing but. You couldn't even keep Claude's attention. The second you got here, he was bored of you. And Ciel too, you don't think he's bored of you? You tried to replace me with him and you failed at that too. He's got other people, and so has Claude, but who have _you_ got?"

Even if Alois could have had an answer to that, he was too choked by tears to give it, letting himself drop to the floor carelessly. His throat hurt from shouting, from crying, and all he could hear was Luka's hate.

_"Leave 'im alone, he doesn't wanna know."_

_"I can't just ignore him. Look at the state he's in."_

"No one. No one wants you. Look at you. Why would they? What could you possibly give them? You're useless, Jim."

Alois sobbed harder, finding it hard to draw a breath. He didn't hear his bedroom door open, nor the footsteps gingerly approaching him. He couldn't drag his eyes away from Luka. For a moment, he hoped the onslaught was done, as Luka's face was wiped clean of its anger. But no, Luka had one last blow to give.

"What is the point of you, Jim?"

And it hit home.

Alois buckled over, face stained a blotchy red and streaked with tears, a pained cry tearing itself from his weary throat. He barely noticed when he was pulled into a hug, his head pulled under Soma's chin, arms wound tightly around him.

"L - Luka..."

Joker watched them warily from the door, giving Soma a slow shake of the head. Soma just rubbed Alois' trembling back, unsure what else he could do.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Agni had not tried to talk to Sebastian again. Three days had passed since their talk in the boiler room and Sebastian hadn't seen hide nor hair of him. This time, it didn't bother him in the least. He wasn't sure he would be able to see Agni and not drive his fist as hard as he could into his stomach. He wasn't sure he would feel sorry about it if he did.

After calming down in the garden, Sebastian had just gone back to work. He had felt oddly numb about it all. What Agni had done, what he had learned about the Chairmen and their far-stretching reach. It wasn't a good kind of numb, though. It was the hopeless kind.

No way out, no way forward, a slow and sure stagnation.

Not even Ciel could help him now.

That realization was met with a grim sort of acceptance. All this time, Sebastian had been banking far more than he had realized on some miracle solution from Agni. It had been foolish, he saw now. If Agni had had that miracle solution then he wouldn't still be inside St. Victoria's walls.

It had been clutching at straws in the most pathetic of ways.

"Are you alright, Sebastian?" Doctor asked with a little frown, wheeling himself towards the Ward V door, "You seem quieter than usual."

Quieter. What was there left to say? Quiet was the best word for it. His mind was utterly silent now. No raging panic, no desperate scrambling for solutions that didn't exist. Just a calm stillness. It probably didn't bode well, but Sebastian couldn't quite find it in himself to care.

"I'm perfectly fine, Doctor," Sebastian replied a beat too late, smiling blankly.

If Doctor was unconvinced, he didn't say so, just returning the smile cheerfully.

Ward V was as unpleasant as ever. The smells, sights and sounds never quite lost their impact, no matter how many times Sebastian ended up there. His eyes were drawn to patient V8, the electroshock patient. No change since treatment. It still shrieked as balefully as always. Sebastian looked away in disgust as a trickle of pus ran from one of Its infected eyes.

"Good afternoon," Claude greeted them as they entered the ward fully. Sebastian didn't even have it in him to be perturbed at today's company. He wondered at that. When he stopped being annoyed at Claude's presence, something must really be wrong with him.

"Hello, Dr. Faustus," Doctor greeted somewhat stiffly.

 _Interdepartmental drama,_ Sebastian thought, _what fun._

"Hello, Claude," Sebastian said, pleasantly enough. He accepted the gloves Claude gave him, slipping them on without a thought. Before, the itch of the talcum powder inside the gloves had bothered him for hours after taking them off. He didn't particularly mind it now, stretching the latex until it wrapped around each of his fingers without a crease.

"Patient V7 needs to be moved to the vacant compartment at the other end of the room. His current one has become a hazard, as you can see," Doctor explained, gesturing to the ruin of a cage. V7 was one of the violent ones, if the torn up lino and gouged walls were anything to go by. Even with Its nails trimmed down to the finger tips, It still found a way to cause a mess. "V7 is volatile, so two pairs of hands are going to be necessary in the moving. Dr. Faustus was so kind as to volunteer."

Doctor didn't sound all too happy about that. Nothing made Sebastian fonder of someone than mutual disdain of somebody else.

"As long as it's quick," Claude said, probably aware but just ignoring the somewhat hostile atmosphere, "I'll be needed back upstairs shortly."

"Well, let's crack on then!" Doctor exclaimed, only too happy to spend as little time with Claude as possible. Sebastian shared the sentiment, in a detached sort of way, so gladly took hold of one of the catch poles propped against the far wall.

Claude gave what might have been a sigh, inclining his head towards the trolley in the walkway.

"Fire hazard."

Doctor's smile was definitely forced now, "Sorry, sorry! From yesterday's session with V2. I was sure I'd put that away... Not to worry, it won't get in the way here. Just leave it."

Claude didn't argue, surprisingly enough, and followed Sebastian as they approached V7's enclosure. With a swipe over the panel, it beeped open, the clear plastic door swinging inwards.

Immediately, V7's attention was caught. It didn't come near them, eyeing them warily from the corner of Its enclosure. Blood was caked upon Its ruined fingers, a matching set with the impossibly deep gouges on the surface of the wall. How much force would have to be put in, Sebastian wondered, to make such a mark with blunt nails?

"You take left," Claude instructed beneath his breath, already moving to the right.

Sebastian did as he was told, straying slowly to the left, hands wrapped securely around the rod.

V7 gave a gurgling groan at their approach, Its back flat against the wall as though trying to phase through it. Its feet pushed into the floor, bracing Itself to move, but Claude was swifter. Before V7 could build up enough force to move, he had his catch pole secured around Its neck, forcing Its face into the floor.

V7 was subdued easily and without incident.

"Get the door," Claude instructed, wrestling V7 to Its feet. Now that It was caught, It quickly became distressed, fighting against the wire secured around Its neck. The more It struggled, the tighter the wire was pressed around Its throat. It didn't have the sense the make that connection, however, and so struggled more and more, tightening Its own noose.

Sebastian did as he was told, walking ahead of Claude and V7 to ensure their path was clear.

It was the blankness of his mind, he would realize later, that led him to make such a ridiculous mistake. It could be nothing short of pure idiocy that led him to give his back, not only to a patient, but to Claude Faustus.

He realized that mistake in the instant it took for V7 to struggle so violently, Claude lost his grip on the catch pole. Or so he would later claim, though Sebastian wouldn't believe him for a second. In that instant, V7 lunged forward, crashing into Sebastian's back with unexpected force. The same aggressive force It had used to gouge holes into the concrete wall with nothing but Its blunt and broken fingers.

Sebastian was pinned on his stomach, the wind knocked out of him. V7 was heavy, one of if not the largest of the Ward V patients, and all of that weight kept Sebastian trapped on the ground.

V7's hands smashed into his shoulders. A crushing blow, an audible crack, then a hot white flash of agony.

Sebastian couldn't stop the scream of pain that left him then. More than the pain, his shoulder just felt _wrong,_ and he knew the best he could hope for was a dislocation.

The pain wiped clean the fog of blankness that had descended on him the past few days. With V7 on his back, Its fists a merciless assault, Sebastian woke up. And all he could do was choke on the panic.

Distantly, he heard Doctor yelling, genuine distress in his voice. Then Claude, his calm monotone, unapologetic as he watched on.

Sebastian may have yelled for help. He wasn't sure. His own voice seemed lost amidst the screeching of V7.

Another slamming fist, the sensation of something tearing. It didn't even hurt now. The actual pain didn't register with him, but the other feelings did. The popping of cartilage being forced out of place. The splintering of bone as it shattered. A spreading bruise, a black and purple cloud expanding across his vulnerable back.

 _My spine,_ Sebastian realized, _It knows to go for my spine._

Something silver shone from the corner of Sebastian's eyes. Claude may not have moved to stop V7, but with a half-there smile, he moved away from the trolley and slid across the floor the means for Sebastian to stop V7 himself.

_I can't ---_

V7 was screaming more wildly, only growing more and more aggravated as It continued Its assault. An assault too particular to be mindless. It knew what It was doing. It knew where It was hitting. It had known to wait until Sebastian's back was turned.

_I can't ---_

The other patients were growing restless. They came to the front of their cages. They pressed their hands and their faces against the shatter-proof glass. There was a light in their eyes, a spark of life Sebastian hadn't seen before. Excitement. Hope. Justice. They yelled too, the spectators, the excited audience to Sebastian's death.

_I can't die here!_

Fear made him strong, if only for an instant. Struggling beneath the weight of V7, shifting his body left and right to dislodge the beast even the smallest amount, Sebastian managed to wriggle one of his arms free. The movement brought the pain back to life in his shoulders and he screamed with it, screamed as he stretched his shattered arm as far as it would go. Fingers scrabbling across the dirt-caked tiles, his nails scratching little gouges in the floor, he finally felt the cool surface of the handle.

It took all of his strength to close his hand around the hilt. As he pulled his arm back, so much more difficult than it had been to extend it in the first place, V7 seemed to realize his movements were not just a frail struggle. Its assault increased, frenzied, and Sebastian thought for a moment that it was pointless. He was broken, beyond any amount of will power or repair.

Then a kick from a spectator, an olive branch. V7 was dislodged from his back.

Sebastian didn't waste a moment.

Leaning all his weight on one elbow, Sebastian flung himself from the floor. V7 was already doubling back, getting ready to pounce again, but Sebastian was quicker. Both hands wrapped around the hilt of the knife, he drove it without hesitation into the side of V7's neck.

The skin may as well have been paper. It parted so easily beneath his blade. It shoulder have been harder, Sebastian thought, to kill a person. But it wasn't. The knife plunged through as easily as cutting butter. Then the blood. Hot, spilling from the wound relentlessly, spreading across the both of them. It was all over Sebastian. His hands, his clothes, his face. There was no end to it, it seemed to him.

V7 was looking him in the eyes. It opened Its mouth as if to speak, but all that came out was a gurgle of blood. Its eyes were brighter than Sebastian had ever seen. Knowing. He would see those eyes for a long time.

Slowly, as if time had become stuck, V7 toppled to the floor with the knife still jammed in Its throat. Around them, the patients had fallen silent. It was the quietest Ward V had ever been.

Until Sebastian screamed. 


	25. Chapter 25

_"These things do happen."_

Sebastian remained as still as possible. There was a cacophony around him, louder and busier and more frantic than it had been even on Ward V. There were more people in the Infirmary than he had seen in weeks, half of the staff there at once when usually you were hard-pressed to get more than two or three in a room together at the same time.

The triplets were flanking Sebastian where he was kneeling on a bed. Timber and Cantebury or the other one, he could hardly tell the difference between them, held one of his arms each. Stretched out as far as they would go, the pain was intolerable. A constant clenching twist that had his eyes watering in an embarrassing mockery of tears.

Maybe he was crying. He couldn't quite seem to tell. It was like he was watching the scene from above, an impartial observer. He could still feel every twist and pull of his shattered body, though. That hardly seemed fair.

They were all peering in from the door. Grey, Phipps, Brown, Grell, Ronald and even Will gave a curious glance over. There was no sympathy in them. They watched him like an animal at a zoo, displayed for their amusement, for their fleeting interest. Arms pinned, door blocked, it was only too easy to feel like a caged animal.

All this time, Sebastian had feared that empty cage at the far end of Ward V. In the end, he didn't even need the cage to be on display for them.

They watched him with the same eyes that the Ward V patients had.

_"These things do happen."_

The two identical men held him by the wrists. Their grip was firm, tight enough that his skin could easily bruise, and he wasn't sure whether he would have been able to escape from their grasp even if he had been at his full strength. They pulled his arms out as far as they would go, an excruciating position that had him trembling from the strain in under a minute.

His back was as vulnerable now as it had been then.

They were all talking, shouting, their slew of words coalescing into a mindless hum. Sebastian couldn't pick out the words or find meaning from the noise no matter how hard he tried. And he tried hard, knowing that _he_ was the subject, his future debated right in front of him with participation from the peanut gallery at the door.

Why couldn't he understand them? Why did only static come from their frantically moving mouths?

Some sort of decision was made as Doctor wheeled back over to him, red in the face and more flustered than Sebastian had ever seen him. There was no grin, no attempt at cheer. It was frightening, especially when Sebastian's couldn't hear the grim words coming from him.

The two holding him suddenly pulled tighter. Sebastian may have screamed. He wasn't sure. If he did, the noise was lost amongst the rest of the hum.

His shirt was stripped from him, or rather, peeled away. The blood had dried, the shirt a rust coloured red more than white now. It was tossed to the floor by the third triplet, his hands gloved.

All three of them were wearing gloves, Sebastian realized. They touched him only with gloved hands.

The filthy shirt may have gone but he was still caked in the blood. It had seeped through the top, stained his chest, shoulders, arms. It cracked and flaked to bits on his neck and face every time he moved. He couldn't stand to look at his hands, his own gloves still there, the clinical turquoise colour completely dyed.

A damp cloth. That was what he wanted. Peace, quiet, and a damp cloth.

_"These things do happen."_

Those words weren't being spoken but they were the ones he was hearing. Had it been Claude or Doctor who had murmured it to him as he was removed from Ward V in a screaming fit? It had been said in a comforting tone, an absolution of responsibility. The words rang shrilly in his head like an unanswered phone.

"No, they don't!" Sebastian bellowed, almost an hour after the comment had actually been made. They all looked at him, confused, for all of a moment. Then they went back to their own conversations, their own debates, paying him no mind. Sebastian was the subject but he was superfluous.

More decisions were made, more time passed. He was treated with gloved-handed care and calculated distances. X-rays were taken of his beaten back. The pain ebbed and flowed, intensifying then disappearing in turns. His thoughts never quite came back to him properly. He was still watching from above, detached but invested, hearing nothing but the hum.

Then words seeped through. Without context, voices linked to faces and those faces linked to anger or disdain or fear that didn't feel like his own anymore.

_Broken._

_Torn._

_Anaesthetic._

_Surgery._

It was dark outside by the time the words came to him. Nothing to see through the Infirmary window but black skies. He found it being night more concerning than the words leaking through his haze.

Sebastian forced himself to think.

 _I am broken and torn,_ he thought, borrowing the words, _They're going to give me anaesthetic then begin surgery._

_Bad._

_It's a bad thing._

Images, memories, they filtered in through the holes the words had made in his haze. A back room and a trolley of tools. Tools made to hurt, not help. Kept so clean, cleaner than he was now, cleaner than he would ever be again. A viewing gallery for his audience at the door. A glass divider between them, like the Ward V cages. Apathetic eyes watching him be beaten to death, watching him be cut open and sewn back together, no difference at all between the two.

Would someone give him a knife this time? Could he save himself this time?

Sebastian was lying on his front, half of his face crushed into the paper-thin pillow. The position was to ease the strain on his back, but it also made it difficult for him to move. The door was blocked by the crowd of spectators. His thoughts were too slow for his body to obey.

Conclusion; he couldn't run.

He could see, though. He could see Doctor preparing the anaesthetic. He could see two of the triplets returning to his side to restrain him again. He could see the third wheeling Doctor over. And he could see the oxygen mask coming down over his face.

Sucking air in through his nose, Sebastian tried to hold his breath as the plastic clasped down around his mouth. The thicker plastic around the edges seemed to suction into place, squeezing down on his face so that it couldn't be dislodged. There was a moment of nothing that almost tricked him into breathing, but then he felt the slight brush against his skin, a fresh sort of cold trickling in.

Blood rushed in his ears. Something seemed to sit heavily at the base of his throat. His eyes watered, then streamed. His chest burned, at first a discomfort, then impossible to ignore. The world disappeared gradually from his eyes, eclipsed by flickering static.

Unable to stop himself, Sebastian opened his mouth. Air rushed in, clearing his head, but only for a moment. No sooner had the static faded from his eyes did they suddenly become too difficult to keep open. His eyelids dropped, took longer to open each time, until they simply didn't.

 

* * *

 

 

The letter had stayed in the drawer since he had read it. Only once. After that first reading, Ciel had been happy for her, for all the time it took St. Victoria's to wreak its usual horror. His happiness for her had been lost in thoughts of his own situation, his own problems, just himself. He didn't feel bad for that. He had accepted his self-absorbance years ago and, given his situation, if he didn't put himself first then he wouldn't have lasted as long at the Institute as he had.

Still, he had given Lizzie no more thought after that. She said she had written to him to absolve her own guilt, but she had done more than that. Whatever sense of obligation Ciel may have felt towards her, in honour of their childhood together and the bond they had once certainly had, it had been wiped clean then. It had been a weight off his shoulders he hadn't been aware he was carrying.

A winter wedding.

It was mid-August now, the cold winds already blowing in. Lizzie had always been very literal, Ciel remembered, so when she said winter, she almost certainly meant December.

Lizzie would get married in four months.

Ciel sat at his desk, the letter in his hand. He read it for the second time, actually processing the words in a way he hadn't before. It was odd, he found, to have someone reference his childhood so flippantly. Because it had been theirs too. Someone who had knew him _before._ These days, even Ann hesitated to talk so easily with him. She kept it current. Current news, current questions, nothing that made her think back to then.

Even Ciel could hardly remember what he had been like before St. Victoria's.

Reading Lizzie's letter, he tried to dredge up memories of what she was describing. They had played together in the snow, she said, and he had shoved snow down the back of her dress. It didn't sound like something he would do, far too playful, but then, that was a different him. They had danced at their Mothers' insistence, the waltz, and he had stepped on her feet. That sounded about right as far as his coordination went, but he struggled to actually remember an instance of it.

He remembered _her_. Golden hair, bright green eyes, a proclivity for frilly dresses and heels too high for her. Easily moved to tears, just as easily moved to smile. A wicked punch when angered. Not much for sweets, which had always meant twice as much for him. Little things he remembered, but not the memories she had held close to her heart all these years.

She claimed to want to know the man Ciel had become, but when that man could hardly remember the child he had been, he wasn't sure she would like what she found.

Ciel put the letter back in the drawer and shut it with a click. With a sigh, he stood, back aching from sitting in the chair too long. It was dark outside but he could still hear voices from the ward. Had the nights drawn in so quickly?

With a furrowed brow, Ciel wandered out of his bedroom. The leisure room was more occupied than it ever was so late at night. Most were missing, the early nighters, the rule abiders, but Joker, Beast, Drocell and Snake sat together on the couches. That was an unusual sight in itself. Drocell and Snake never strayed beyond their corner of the room, rarely spoke to the rest of them. Yet there they were, Drocell and Joker's heads bowed together as they talked animatedly.

Snake looked up at Ciel's approach, alerting the others.

"Evenin'," Joker greeted, patting the empty space beside him in invitation. Ciel glanced at the chair not too far from the couches, certainly close enough for him to still participate in the conversation. He decided against it, sitting beside Joker without comment. Joker almost cracked a smile, but not quite. Now that Ciel thought about it, it had been a long while since he had last seen Joker smile.

"What time is it?" Ciel asked, paying no mind to whatever talk had been going on before he arrived.

"After eight," Beast replied. There was a restless energy to her that seemed to infect the others. She was picking at the tattered skin of her left hand, nails sharp enough to draw blood. "After curfew."

"Ash and Angela were on the ward today but it wasn't their shift," Drocell informed them, "And they only made brief appearances. It's been a good few hours since their last one. It goes without saying that it's out of character for those two not to enforce the curfew. They were the ones who created it, after all."

"Can't even get back in our rooms now," Joker laughed, somewhat hollowly, "Looks like we'll be campin' out on the couches tonight."

"The doors are locked?" Ciel asked, frowning.

Beast pulled at the frayed skin around her nail, peeling it back without a care. Ciel wasn't sure she was aware she was doing it.

"Yeah. Heard it beep. No one here to give us the ten minute warning though."

It didn't need to be said for them all to agree that something was amiss. It wasn't unusual for the Orderlies to switch shifts but for Angela _and_ Ash to take their place on the same shift was completely unprecedented. Even more so for the curfew to not be enforced. Ciel and Ciel alone was exempt from the curfew, so he knew better than anyone that never before had patients besides him been outside of their rooms by the time they locked.

"What do you think?" Drocell asked, more curious than anything else. He alone seemed to be unconcerned. The others couldn't sit still at all. Beast picked at her fingers until they were red raw. Joker shifted constantly in his seat, as though unable to get comfortable. Even Snake was glancing around the room restlessly. It was contagious. It took a moment for Ciel to realize that he had begun gnawing on his thumbnail, already bitten down to the point of pain. As soon as he noticed, he stopped, annoyed with himself.

"I think something has happened," Ciel answered simply, "Something big. And it's either affected all the staff, or been big enough to get their attention en masse."

"Any ideas?" Drocell asked with an edge.

Ciel bristled at his tone, "How should I know?"

"Drocell," Snake mumbled. A warning. One that Drocell did not heed.

"You'd know better than any of the rest of us, what with you being so close with the staff these days."

"Oi," Joker cut in, a warning much more blatant than Snake's. For all that Joker was usually nothing but laughs and cheer, there had always been something darker underneath, something that necessitated the cheerful exterior. It seemed to be drawing closer to the surface each time Ciel saw him.

Ciel didn't like where this was going.

"Whatever you're implying, you couldn't be further from the mark. You might recall _you_ were the one only too happy to use my connection with 'the staff' to get Joker back from The Room. "

Ciel sat up straight in his seat, crossing one leg over the other. Chin lifted and lip curled, it was a return to the attitude he had let go neglected. For too long, if Drocell thought he could take such a tone with him.

"That was a long time ago," Drocell challenged, "And you've only gotten closer to them since."

" _Them?_ Who are you even talking about?"

"The orderly and the psychiatrist. Whenever you aren't hidden away with the orderly in your bedroom, you're off the ward with Faustus. And all these years of nights alone with them, I can't bring myself to believe you haven't wheedled your way into the favour of the others."

It was pure accusation, no two ways about it. Drocell had never been particularly warm to him, but then, he had never been particularly warm to anyone besides Snake. Still, he had never regarded Ciel with such unmasked suspicion. It bled out of him unguarded, in his eyes, in his manner, in the way he sat fully facing Ciel despite it being an awkward position to maintain.

Snake glanced between them nervously, clenching and unclenching his hands. There was none of the same accusation there. Nor was it present in Beast, who simply rolled her eyes at the direction the conversation had taken, nor Joker, who regarded Drocell coldly.

"We spoke about this," Joker said evenly, "And we decided that it were counterproductive to turn on each other. Smile's no turncoat. He hates 'em as much as we do. _More_ , if anythin'. He's had plenty more time for it to fester, plenty more reason to hate 'em. So how about you pack it in with this coz it's gettin' us nowhere."

Drocell didn't look angry at Joker's rebuttal but he shot him an icy look. There was a pause before he spoke again, as though he had needed to ready his arsenal before making the attack.

"You spend so much time playing at being friends, Joker, but at the end of the day, playing is all it is. You're naive if you think solidarity is all that is needed for us to survive. The Us and Them mentality is weak when you make allowances for the Them. You already let Peter pay the price of your last folly; who are you going to use as a shield next time?"

Even Ciel was surprised at such an unwarrantedly nasty attack and he found himself ready to defend Joker. He stopped just in time, wondering at himself.

Beast didn't feel the need to stop herself, jumping to her feet and giving Drocell an unrestrained slap.

"How _dare_ you use Peter for that," she snarled, living up to her name. "You don't know anything about what happened."

Ciel was starting to wonder whether he did from the expressions on Beast and Joker's faces, the flush of shame Drocell now wore.

"My apologies," Drocell said, cheek quickly reddening, "That was ... uncalled for."

"Yeah, it was. For the record, I did everythin' I could for Peter. I can sleep at night knowin' that. I failed, yeah, and that'll always be somethin' that I'll hafta carry, but I did what I could. And if we're talkin' about solidarity, maybe you need to consider why you two always keep to yourselves. You think it don't work? Nah, mate, it works. But it won't work for you two, coz you two stay in your little corner, like yous are better than us. Nothin' I can do about that, that's on you. But when the day comes that somethin' happens to one of you, don't expect me to lay myself on the line like I did for Peter. I ain't playing friends, Drocell, it only looks that way to you because you keep yourself on the fringe of it all."

Joker didn't raise his voice once but he was heard loud and clear. Ciel found himself looking away, feeling that at least part of the speech was directed at him. He danced at the fringe of that group too, only considered a part of it when it suited him, but too often did he watch them and think himself above it. What would happen, he wondered, if he were to be taken as Peter had been. Would Joker risk it all for him like he had done for Peter? Would Ciel even want him to, if it meant being indebted to somebody again?

"Moving on," Beast said, sounding bored. Her restlessness betrayed her though, still picking at her now bloody finger. It must have hurt but she didn't seem to notice. "Safe to say _something_ has happened. Brilliant deduction. But _what?_ "

"I honestly can't think of nothin'," Joker said with a weary shrug, running his hand through his hair. It stood up on end, in need of a wash.

"I dread to think what could cause such a response," Drocell replied, "And worse still, what it could mean for us."

Ciel folded his arms, looking over to the ward door.

"I don't think it has anything to do with us," he guessed, "This isn't _about_ us, I don't think. Whatever has happened is big enough that ... they've _forgotten_ us, for the time being. Or we're not their priority, at least."

"I find that much more alarming," Beast said with a shake of her head.

"Yeah, I mean, the fuck could happen to cause this much of a thing? Can't be anythin' good."

They lapsed into silence, all five of them, looking to each other for answers none of them could give. There was little else that could be said beyond speculation and scaremongering, after all. They would just have to wait for morning to come, and with it, hopefully some answers.

 

* * *

 

 

When Sebastian awoke, it was to silence.

Eyelids heavy, thoughts a haze. He couldn't stay awake long. He slipped back under.

The next time he awoke, it was dark again. The infirmary was dimly lit by the standing lamps on either side of the room. They did little more than cast a faint yellow glow, but Sebastian was grateful for that. Waking up came with a piercing head ache that even that dim light was aggravating. Anymore and he was sure his skull would split clean in two. 

_Surgery._

Sebastian closed his eyes again, not to sleep but to assess the damage. His body felt sluggish, sort of blunt around the edges. He couldn't feel any pain besides his head, but there were parts of him - his left arm and shoulder, the upper part of his back, his jaw - that felt just that bit out of synch with the rest of him. They felt heavier, or rather, they felt present when the rest of him was gone. 

Sebastian opened his eyes and looked down at himself. 

In the place of a shirt, his chest was bound with bandages. Pristine white, they looped his torso, above and around his shoulders, held in place with sharp silver clasps. His right arm was bound even tighter, bundled into a sling and restrained against his chest. These bindings afforded next to no movement. The bandages looked a little different at the top of his right arm. Thicker, something beneath them.

He was still filthy with blood. More now, some of it his own. The gloves were still on his hands.

Sebastian's head pulsed again. It was such a sharp pain, as though the veins in his head were lit on fire, it sparking around like a circuit within his skull. No inch was untouched.

A groan escaped him.

"He's awake," a voice announced from beside the bed.

Sebastian's eyes shot open again.

Claude Faustus sat by the foot of the bed. Papers scattered around him, he was bent over a file on his knee, pen scribbling away. He barely glanced at Sebastian, though he was happy enough to use his legs as a place to arrange the sheets of paper.

Something was odd about him and it took Sebastian a moment to pinpoint just what; Claude wasn't wearing his uniform. It was the first time Sebastian had ever seen him dressed casually. A form-fitting jumper, dark slacks, a different pair of glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. He looked painfully plain, no more threatening than a school teacher.

Claude glanced over his shoulder, clicked his tongue in irritation.

"Been hovering for hours. Now you finally wake up, he's wandered off."

Sebastian wasn't sure who Claude was talking about, found it hard to care at the moment. The haze was clearing, but slowly. He'd care soon.

Claude looked at him. He was visibly tired, Sebastian noted, eyes weighed down with shadows.

"How are you feeling?"

The pen was still twitching upon the paper, a few words joining the ink mass. Sebastian found himself wanting to see them. He knew with a certainty he couldn't explain that his name was there.

"What're you writing?" Sebastian found himself asking, though he had not given his mouth permission to say that.

Claude raised an eyebrow. His pen finally stilled.

"Incidents like these create a lot of paperwork. Getting a head start on my share."

Sebastian nodded despite the answer not really registering in his mind.

Claude didn't speak again for a while after that, slowly filling in sheet after sheet with a record of what had happened. How much honesty was there, Sebastian wasn't sure, but then, he wasn't entirely sure of what had happened either. Who had kicked him the knife, who had dislodged patient V7 long enough for him to use it. Those things were lost in the end result.

Sebastian had yet to allow himself to dwell on that. The haze was keeping him distant from it. He wasn't sure what would happen once the reality hit him. He wasn't in a hurry to find out.

It must have been at least an hour before Claude spoke again.

"Any pain?"

Sebastian blinked dozily, struggling to make sense of the question for a moment.

"No," Sebastian answered after several long minutes, "Am I alright?"

The words were returning to him, slowly but surely. They felt clumsy in his mouth.

Claude didn't answer straight away. With what seemed to Sebastian a cruelly deliberate slowness, he leafed through his papers, arranging them into whatever order they needed to be. He slipped them into the brown file and wandered across the room to leave it on Doctor's desk. He kept the pen, twirling it between his spindly fingers as he slowly returned to Sebastian's bedside. The speed had to be intentional. It was too petty not to be.

It struck Sebastian again how different Claude seemed from usual. Was it just the casual clothes, he wondered, or was there something off about his manner? The Claude Sebastian knew was abrupt, holding himself with a cliché clinical detachment. Maybe it was the drugs, but at that moment, Sebastian couldn't seem to find the detachment. Claude was looking at him in a way that, if it were anybody else, Sebastian would have called it interest.

Claude wetted his lips, apparently contemplating the answer.

"You're alright, in a sense."

Sebastian waited for more but that was all the answer Claude gave.

"What d'you mean," Sebastian's words still slurred together, a drunken mumble, "In a sense?"

"I mean that the damage was not as severe as we'd assumed it to be, but that's not to say you got out unscathed," Claude replied, the pen spinning in a loop around his index finger, "There's extensive bruising, mainly on your upper back. Fortunately, your spine didn't suffer too much of the focus of the attack, which was our main concern. Your shoulder was dislocated, and in such a way that there was muscular tearing. Hence the surgery. Doctor seems confident that he's repaired the damage, so I wouldn't worry."

Sebastian slumped back against the bed. He hadn't realized he had sat up in the first place.

He was alright.

_He was alright._

It had seemed so much worse at the time. It had felt like V7 was going to completely break him, as though he was made of something no stronger than porcelain. But Doctor had fixed him, glued together the broken china, and he was alright.

"As I said, the bruising _is_ extensive, so once the painkillers wear off, I imagine you'll be quite sore. Doctor says you'll need to keep the sling on for a week, at least. I've spoken with Angela; you won't be required to work on the wards for the time being. Take a few days off. Rest up. We'll progress from there."

Claude was still talking, that faultless monotone, but Sebastian was tuning words out again. Intentionally, now. The relief was overwhelming. It was washing away everything else; Claude's words and presence, the pounding headache, the bloody gloves still on his hands.

Sebastian was pulled out of the self-made haze by a hand pressing firmly against his chest.

"Are you listening?" Claude asked, hand splayed across Sebastian's bandages.

Sebastian frowned, staring at the hand until it was gone.

"I said that until it's decided that you're in a fit enough state for the wards again, you'll fill other tasks. Some time here at the infirmary, some time assisting Angela and Ash with their duties, and some time with me. If you end up preferring that, or if you would just rather not return to the wards, then we can make the arrangement permanent. Sebastian?"

Claude thought he wasn't listening again. Probably because he wasn't looking at his face. He was still staring at where Claude's hand had been. It just seemed an odd way to get someone's attention, Sebastian thought, as opposed to just shaking them or waving a hand in front of their face.

Why was it even Claude? Of all the people to be telling him these things, Claude was only just beneath Angela and Ash as the most unlikely to volunteer. It should have been Doctor. It was more his job, after all. Or Agni. Surely Agni would have offered to sit with him. They may not have been friends anymore, but they weren't _that_ far gone, were they?

Claude's hand was on his chest again, a firm press to get his attention.

"Sebastian, did you hear what I said?"

Claude didn't sound impatient at all. Had he always been this tactile?

"Yes, I heard," Sebastian replied after a beat, taking hold of Claude's wrist. It took more effort than usual to get his arm to move, his fingers to unclench. It was with less force than he wanted that he removed Claude's hand from his chest. "Thank you."

Claude stared at him. His eyes were a disarming thing, almost amber in colour, narrow like a cat's. They seemed to see too much.

"I'll leave you to get some rest, then," Claude said, standing up. When Sebastian let go of his wrist, he was quick to wipe it with the hem of his jumper, as though the dry blood still encrusting Sebastian's gloves had gotten on him at all.

Claude paused by the door. His voice carried across the room without him having to raise it at all, "What happened was ... unfortunate, but it's a risk we take in this line of work. You handled it as best as could be expected. If you ever need to discuss what happened, feel free to drop by my office."

He left without another word.

A sense of unease prickled at Sebastian's skin.

Claude was acting strangely. Less distant, less cold. Unrestrained in touching. His clothes could only seem like a costume to Sebastian. A charade of normalcy. How long had he sat there, waiting for Sebastian to wake up? Why had he bothered in the first place? There was a phantom weight pressing into Sebastian's chest. An unwelcome hand. A touch he didn't invite, didn't expect.

An olive branch extended.

Sebastian's eyes widened as the realization struck.

_I'm one of them now._

The initiation was over. As soon as he had picked up the knife, grabbed it with an iron intent in his mind, his allegiance had been established. One of the staff, a part of the Them.

A patient killer.

Sebastian took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling beneath the bandages. His heart thundered in his chest, a panic thrumming through his veins the likes of which he hadn't felt even when he had been pinned under V7. Yet his mind was blissfully blank.

It was done.

He was ... _safe._

Slowly, Sebastian sat up in the bed. He still felt heavy but his body was responding to his orders faster than before. There was only a small lag between him wanting to move his feet to the floor and his limbs following the order. After that, it was easy to stand, easier still to shuffle forward, one foot in front of the other.

With clumsy steps, Sebastian left the infirmary.

Claude had only just left the room but he was nowhere to be seen within the winding corridors Sebastian shuffled through, aimless but determined. Determination to do what, he couldn't quite work out. Along with the panic he couldn't quite feel yet, there was a restless energy sparking through him, compelling him to move, to keep moving no matter what.

First there was cool linoleum beneath his feet, then the colder tiles of the steps, the hard stone of the entryway, and finally gravel. Sebastian paused then, his weary body beginning to object. For a moment, he stood motionless in the driveway, staring down the way towards the gates.

His chest was heaving, he realized. The breaths were harder to drag in.

He still couldn't _feel_ the panic he knew was there.

Sebastian broke into a run.

_I killed him, I killed him, I killed him, I killed him ---_

_no, It, I killed It, It was trying to kill me, It tried to kill me first ---_

_I killed him, I killed him, I killed him, I killed him ---_

_it wasn't my fault, It attacked me first, it's not my fault, it's not ---_

_one of them now, i'm one of them now, am i safe, is it safe ---_

_I killed him, I killed him, I killed him, I killed him ---_

_only safe from them, the patients, the patients are dangerous, they ---_

_Ciel_

_they're dangerous, It tried to kill me first, not my fault ---_

_will Ciel blame me_

_it's their fault, it's your fault, IT'S NOT MY FAULT ---_

"Sebastian!"

"I killed him, I killed him, I killed him, I ki ---"

Hands stronger than his own grabbed Sebastian, pulled him down from where he was clinging to the gate, all the while repeating his name firmly. There was no panic in that voice but that didn't comfort Sebastian at all. The voice should have been panicking. How could it not be. A killer, he was a killer.

"Sebastian!" the voice repeated. The hands restrained him, arms wrapped tightly around his body to try and still him. There was pain, Sebastian realized distantly, his arm had slipped free from the sling.

"Sebastian, answer me," the voice ordered, and there was worry there now. He struggled against the man holding him. A feeble shove. A child-like kick. The words were still spilling from his mouth uncontrollably. The words needed to stop. They were blocking his air. He couldn't breathe if he kept confessing.

"I killed It, I killed It, I _killed It, I killed It!"_ Sebastian's voice grew louder, more strung out, a gasping thing. Loud and weak all at once.

"It's all right, Sebastian," the voice insisted, holding him tighter, "It - You're not to blame."

The voice didn't sound as sure about that.

Sebastian's struggle grew weaker, but only because his head was getting lighter. His chest clenched, lungs burned, there wasn't enough air outside no matter how much he gasped.

Abruptly, Sebastian doubled over, throwing up. His gloved hands clung to the arms holding him. His stained fingers scratched at the man, nails dragging against the inside of the talc-coated latex. His stomach was already empty but he continued to retch until it ached. His eyes streamed with every aborted jolt.

The man's grip on him loosened as Sebastian went slack in his arms. He rubbed his back gingerly, a hollow attempt to comfort.

"Sebastian," Agni said quietly, "It'll be alright."

Sebastian was silent. He remained that way as Agni helped him to stand, supported him back to the building, led him to his own bedroom. He was utterly unresponsive until Agni made to remove the gloves for him.

"I'm just going to ta ---"

"No. Leave them."

Agni paused, hands just hovering above Sebastian's.

"Sebastian, they're filthy. I'm just going to throw them away and then we can get you cleaned up." His voice was reasonable now. _Very_ reasonable. Sebastian wondered if he spoke to the patients like that.

"No," Sebastian repeated calmly. His throat was sore. It hurt to speak.

Agni kneeled down to be eye level with Sebastian.

"You'll feel better when they're gone," Agni assured him, like a parent promising there were no monsters under the bed. They had checked. They could be trusted.

"I'll feel better when you're gone," Sebastian replied, staring at Agni steadily. He wasn't sure whether that was true, but he would rather find out than spend any more time in someone else's company. Agni's presence was smothering.

Was that a flash of hurt in Agni's eyes?

Agni drew away, leaning back on his heels. He was silent for a minute, then another.

"Okay. If that's what you want. You know where I am, if you need me."

Hesitantly, Agni stood up. His reluctance as he left the room, shutting the door quietly behind him, was palpable.

 _I never knew where you were when I needed you before,_ Sebastian thought bitterly, easing himself down onto the mattress. The sling had twisted under his aching arm but he couldn't build up the motivation to do anything about it.

What had he been trying to do?

The gates had been locked. The heavy iron padlock should have been enough of a clue of that. Even if they hadn't been locked, Sebastian wasn't sure he would have really left. He wasn't sure he _could_ really leave.

Even if he was one of them now, he doubted he would be allowed to leave so easily.

There had been no conscious decision. His feet had simply carried him there. It was what he wanted, then. To flee. Run away from St. Victoria's and all the people inside of it and what he had just done.

_I killed It ---_

"No," Sebastian growled out loud, teeth clenching together until his jaw hurt. If he started that again, he wasn't sure he'd be able to stop.

He pushed his head into the pillow, letting out a long breath through his nose. His breathing seemed normal now but there was still a weightlessness in his head, the same as before.

His hands itched.

"One. Two. Three." Sebastian quietly counted, hardly a whisper, in the hopes of bringing himself down to some level of calm. He had seen it on TV once, maybe, or read about it in a book. It wasn't very effective. "Four. Five. Six."

His back was beginning to throb.

"Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven."

His right arm felt wrong.

"Twelve. Thirteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. No --- Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen."

He reeked of sick. The smell was becoming harder and harder to ignore.

"Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty."

He miscounted another two times. He skipped the thirties altogether. By the time he made it to fifty-three, his breathing was growing ragged again. While he spoke a monotonous count, his mind began its accusing chant again. He hit seventy-eight and snapped.

On the desk were the things he had had on him in Ward V that day. A pen, little torn-off scraps of paper, his key-card.

Sebastian was unsurprised to find Ciel's ring missing.

Snatching up his key-card, he left the room in a half-run.

 

* * *

 

 

Ciel was drifting. It was that half-way point between late at night and early morning, still pitch black outside. He was trapped in that half-way point too. Not quite awake, not yet asleep. Aware enough of that for it to be annoying.

Four days now.

Things had returned to normal the morning after their talk past curfew. There had consistently been two members of staff on the ward at all times. Trips to the garden had become more routine than they had ever been, which struck Ciel as odd, since the weather was only worsening. The group therapy sessions had been changed to a twice a week event, as opposed to the sporadic things of before.

Four days now, and Sebastian had not been on the ward once.

Ciel shifted restlessly beneath the duvet, too hot but too tired to do anything about it. The nights had yet to do the decent thing and be completely cold. Instead, they were muggy, an unpleasant heavy warmth. That was why he couldn't sleep. It had nothing to do with the nagging voice in his head repeating the same two words as though he was at risk of forgetting them.

_Four days._

Ciel felt himself being dragged more and more towards being completely awake. He struggled to cling to the dregs of haziness but it slipped between his fingers like water.

A fortunate thing, as only seconds later did his bedroom door swing open, hitting the wall with a resounding bang.

 _Speak of the devil,_ Ciel recalled as he jolted up to eye the intruder, _And he shall appear._

Sebastian lurched into the room, fumbling to shut the door behind him. Before he did, Ciel glanced through the gap, checking that Ash wasn't on the ward. Luck was with them for once. The leisure room was completely empty.

Ciel was about to say something snide, a catty comment on Sebastian's appearance or his brief vanishing act, anything to undermine the rush of relief he found himself feeling then. But the words caught in his throat when he got a good look at Sebastian.

Bandages, blood and sweat were the first things that struck Ciel. Then the pungent smell of vomit. A lot of blood. He wasn't wearing any shoes, the soles of his feet filthy and tracking mud on the carpet. A lot of blood, but none of it fresh. There were bruises peeking out from under the bandages, black and purpling splotches like smudged ink. Too much blood.

_Four days._

A lot could happen in four days.

Sebastian was breathing much too noisily, much too quickly. He stumbled, tried to make his way to Ciel, fell clumsily to his knees after only two steps.

Seeing him crumbled on the floor, choking on failed breaths, the worry that had been eating away at Ciel's calm the past four days was validated.

Ciel rose from his bed. He crossed the room in a few long strides, kneeling down at Sebastian's side. He reached out, about to touch, but thought better of it at the last moment. If he were in such a state, the last thing he would want would be anyone touching him. But then, he was hardly a basis for comparison. Would it help Sebastian? Would it ground him, or set him off even more?

Hand hovering uselessly in the air, Ciel asked what seemed to him to be the most important question.

"Sebastian. Is that blood yours?"

There were mumbled words mixed in with the struggling breaths but Ciel couldn't make them out at all. Sebastian wasn't even looking at him, staring wide-eyed at the floor only a few inches away from his face. It was a blank look, hollow and unseeing. That decided it for Ciel.

Pulling back his arm, he gave Sebastian a hard slap across the face.

Ciel expected the colour to return to Sebastian. A glare, a sharp-tongued rebuke, a childish shove in return. It had worked before.

Sebastian fell with the force of the hit, collapsing bonelessly onto his side. It was like his puppet strings had been suddenly cut. Slack and gasping, he lay on the carpet, the dirt and blood and sweat and vomit a miasma developing around him.

"Sebastian."

No response. Not even a twitch.

"Sebastian?"

Sebastian's cheek was reddening where Ciel had hit him. His own hand stung from how hard the slap had been. It had definitely happened. Why wasn't he responding, then?

With a great deal more hesitance now, Ciel lowered himself to the floor, giving Sebastian a more thorough looking over.

_Bandages and a sling. He's been hurt. The blood is his --- no, not all of it, it doesn't match where the bandages are._

_He's wearing gloves. They're bloodier than anywhere else. Sebastian, what did you do?_

_Is this a panic attack? He'll pass out soon if he doesn't stop hyperventilating like that. I need to get him breathing right if he's going to tell me anything._

Ciel felt himself calming from a tension he hadn't noticed growing. So long as he had a plan of action, he could be calm. Something to work towards, a goal to achieve.

"Sebastian, I'm going to come next to you now, alright?" Ciel announced, ensuring his voice was as even as it could sound. The last thing he needed was to startle Sebastian and find himself on the receiving end of a fear-blind attack. He'd dealt out enough of those over the years to know how brutal they could be.

No response except more wheezing.

Gingerly, Ciel shuffled on his knees across the carpet. The closer he got, the more ragged Sebastian's breathing seemed to get.

"I'm going to take your hand now. Alright?"

Ciel paused, but again, no response. Taking that as permission, he took Sebastian's nearest hand and placed it against his chest. The dried blood flaked beneath the touch. With his free hand, he moved Sebastian's chin up to get him to meet his eye.

"If you keep on like this, you're going to pass out. I'd rather avoid that. You've already made a fine mess of my floor. So we're going to breathe together." Ciel inhaled deeply, his chest rising beneath their joined hands. "Like this. As I count up to three, you inhale, and then as I count up to five, you hold that breath. Once I've said five, you can exhale."

Sebastian was still silent, but his fingers clenched against Ciel's chest. Ciel squeezed his hand in response.

"Alright. One, two, three." He sounded ridiculous, trying to count out loud while exaggeratedly breathing in, but Sebastian followed the cue obediently. "Four, five." And out, a whoosh of air.

"Again. In, two, three. Hold, four, five. And out."

They went on that way for a while, huddled together on the floor counting breaths. As time went on, Sebastian began to murmur the numbers too, fingers clenching against Ciel's chest with each inhale and exhale. He curled closer, eyelids drooping.

Ciel considered letting him go to sleep there. He clearly needed it.

"Sebastian, no. You can't sleep yet."

His need for an explanation trumped that consideration. Stretching out his own aching legs, Ciel sat up straight, tugging on Sebastian's hand. Without argument, Sebastian let himself be pulled upright, though not without a wince of pain.

"What?" Ciel asked, letting go of his hand.

"... Shoulder hurts." It was little more than a slurred mumble, but in the silence of the room, it wasn't impossible to understand him. He sounded almost as bad as he looked.

"That sling probably isn't a fashion accessory. You might have better luck with your arm _in_ it."

It was the arm Ciel had pulled, as well. Sebastian really wasn't having a good night.

After some fumbling and awkward angles, Ciel managed to manoeuvre Sebastian's arm back into the sling, noting that the bandages at the top of his shoulder were thicker than anywhere else.

It seemed as good a place as any to start, so Ciel asked, "What's wrong with you arm?"

Still blinking dozily, it took Sebastian a moment to process the question. Longer still to form his answer. It was like there was a sort of lag between what was happening and Sebastian becoming aware of it.

"Dislocated. There was ... muscular tearing." The way he said it, it sounded like a quote to Ciel. He was parroting back someone else's words. "So surgery."

The spike of alarm Ciel felt then was like being doused in cold water.

"Surgery? On _you?"_

Sebastian nodded, giving Ciel an unblinking stare. He still had that hollow look. Even now that he was breathing alright again, the look wasn't fading.

"So it is your blood, then."

It hadn't been said as a question but Sebastian answered nonetheless.

"No."

He was still staring. It was becoming uncomfortable.

Ciel wet his lips, hesitating to ask the question but knowing he had to. With a reluctance he didn't quite understand, he said, "If it's not yours, then whose is it?"

He expected a straight answer. A blank-eyed confession, void of any hint of Sebastian actually saying it. As soon as he had gotten his breathing back under control, there had been a sort of shut down. A mental retreat, one that Ciel recognized only too well. He couldn't count the amount of times reality had sent him scurrying away to the only safe place he knew; within himself.

Instead of a blank-eyed confession, the question seemed to pull Sebastian back from whatever distance he had been forcing. The stare continued, unwavering, even as the rest of him began to shake. The life came back into his face by inches; first a clenching jaw, next a rising flush, then a wide-eyed horror that was quickly hidden as he screwed his eyes shut.

Sebastian slumped forward, his forehead coming to rest with a thump on Ciel's shoulder.

"V7."

Ciel felt himself still. It wasn't intentional, but every part of him seemed to stiffen, freeze up. Sebastian was a warm weight against him but Ciel just felt chilled to the bone.

_Get off of me._

The words were on the tip of his tongue. His hand, the hand he had used to hold Sebastian's before, it crawled as though dozens of disgusting little bugs were inching their way across his skin. He had touched that hand, touched the dried blood it was coated in. He found himself looking down at it as though he would be able to see it stained, the way he knew it now was.

A patient's blood. He had touched a patient's blood.

Sebastian was a heavy weight against him, hardly supporting himself at all. It struck Ciel then, not for the first time but certainly for the first time in a long while, how much bigger Sebastian was than him. Not just bigger, but stronger too, without a doubt. If it ever came to blows, Ciel doubted his luck. He'd be damn near powerless against him.

Was V7 powerless too? Locked in a cage, no weapons and no hope of escape, what chance had V7 had?

\--- _no. Stop. You haven't even heard the story yet._

_Calm down._

_You've not lost yet._

Ciel choked back the panic and revulsion that had surged up, so intense they formed a solid lump in his throat. It wouldn't do to lose his head. There was still a chance for damage control.

"Sebastian," Ciel said, striving to make his voice as placid as possible. His hand was still crawling. It took every ounce of self control not to wipe away the phantom stain on the carpet. "Sebastian, you need to tell me what's happened."

Sebastian didn't sit up, remaining slumped against Ciel. Being touched by Sebastian had stopped making him cringe months ago, whether he had just gotten used to it or something else, he didn't know for certain. But now it was making him uncomfortable. The position they were in could easily turn threatening, if Sebastian so chose. But if Ciel reacted as he wanted to - a shove, an accusation, a complete rejection - then it could jeopardize everything he had worked to build between them.

One false step and all of it would have been for nothing.

It was difficult to restrain himself. The longer Sebastian stayed silent, the more his mind raced to fill in the blanks. That much blood suggested something fatal. Not just an attack, but a murder. The other ward patients were locked up, mentally absent and vulnerable, Sebastian had said so himself. Had the staff gotten to him? Persuaded him? Or had he just snapped, let the thoughts he had confessed to having become reality?

Ciel's months old words came back to him.

_"Thinking about things doesn't hurt anyone, Sebastian. There's nothing wrong with it, so long as that's all it is – a thought. The point is, you didn't harm V2. You thought about it, yes, maybe even wanted to, but you didn't. That right there is the distinction. That's what separates you from the rest of the staff."_

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, _stupid!_

It had seemed like the right thing to say at the time. As close to a solution as Ciel could offer him. But now, it seemed like nothing more than an open invitation. Thinking about hurting the patients, while being pressured to do just that, all with a constant fear for his own safety hanging over his head - what other outcome could Ciel have possibly expected?

Sebastian shifted against Ciel, leaning more heavily upon him. Ciel resisted the urge to shove him away.

He still didn't speak, and that only left more time for Ciel's imagination to speak for him.

Had it been a 'treatment', Ciel wondered. With that thought came a whole new wave of possibilities. Images, memories, they flashed across his mind. His own past treatments - water in his lungs, hateful voices coaxing him to lie, sharp heat then intense cold that lingered in his bones for weeks, occasion spilt blood, not always his own - they twisted in his mind, a base to paint Sebastian's crime upon. And in each sickening scenario, Ciel himself filled the role of the patient. He was V7, his blood soaking Sebastian's gloves, drenching the pristine white of his bandages ---

_oh._

It all screeched to a stop. Bandages and bruises. Dislocated shoulder, muscular tearing, surgery. Sebastian was hurt. Arm in a sling, bruises scattered haphazardly across his skin, Sebastian was hurt too.

Thoughts finally calming, Ciel inhaled deeply, counted to five, then let the breath out. His clean hand, the one that hadn't touched the blood, rose to rest on top of Sebastian's head. Running it slowly through Sebastian's hair, he asked the question that should have been the first on his mind.

"Sebastian. Are you alright?"

Sebastian turned his face towards Ciel's neck, pressing against him to be as close as he could. His breathing was still even, though it was a conscious effort to maintain that. He sounded a bit winded when he said, "No."

The words spilled from him then, as though he couldn't stop them.

"It was an acc --- I didn't _mean_ to --- fucking Faustus let It go and It tackled me, and --- Ciel, It was going to kill me. It was so strong. I couldn't move and It just kept _hitting._ It knew to go for my spine, It knew what It was doing! And then one of them kicked me a knife, I don't know who, and I wasn't thinking, I just --- I was _scared,_ okay, I know I'm not supposed to admit that, I know we don't do _feelings,_ but I was. I didn't want to die here. I don't want to die here. So I killed It. Not on purpose, it's not like I planned to. I just --- I grabbed the knife and swung and I was just trying to get It off me. But I got Its neck. And I .... _I don't think I meant to?"_

Ciel stayed quiet, continuing to stroke Sebastian's hair. So it had been self-defence. That ... wasn't _as_ bad. It had been a set-up, rather than an actual decision on Sebastian's part. It hadn't been from malice. It hadn't been The Change taking Sebastian.

Ciel hadn't lost him to the staff.

Not yet, anyway. But the way Sebastian was questioning himself, the way Ciel was itching to push him away, it could still ruin the ties Ciel had worked to create between him and Sebastian all this time. That would be disastrous. It would ruin every chance he had at getting out of St. Victoria's.

Swallowing against his own revulsion, Ciel tugged on Sebastian's hair to get him to look up.

"Self-defense, then."

A furrow formed between Sebastian's brows.

"The patient attacked _you_ first," Ciel elaborated with a flippancy he did not feel, "And you defended yourself. What, were you supposed to let yourself be killed? You just protected yourself."

Sebastian sat up and opened his mouth to argue, beginning to look alarmed.

Ciel cut him off before he could start, "If someone punched you, wouldn't you be justified in punching them back? Or are you supposed to just sit there and take it? If someone comes at you with the intent to kill then they deserve nothing less than the same in return, right?"

"Ciel!" Sebastian interrupted, incensed by his dismissal of what had been done, "It's not the same thing. Christ, I --- I ki ---"

"Yes, it _is_ the same," Ciel insisted, and he wasn't sure who he was trying to convince now, "V7 was trying to kill you, so it's not _wrong_ that you responded in kind. All you did was respond, Sebastian."

Sebastian shook his head, eyes scrunched shut, "Ciel, I _killed_ V7."

"No, you didn't."

Sebastian looked at him like he was speaking a foreign language he didn't know.

"... What --- I don't."

"Just, listen." Ciel sounded desperate even to himself, but he had to talk their way out of this somehow. He could see the bad path unfurling before them - Sebastian breaking, the staff winning, the both of them trapped at St. Victoria's until their final days - and he had to pull them away from it before it was too late. There was still a chance. He could still fix this. "They _want_ you to be like this. Don't you see? They've kept trying to bring you over to their side but it's failed time and time again. Ward V was their trump card but it wasn't working, because you kept resisting them. Every time you had a choice, you chose to say no. So they took away your choice, Sebastian. They backed you into a corner where you _had_ to do exactly what they wanted you to do. They let the patient attack you. They didn't try to help you. They literally put the knife in your hands. Do you see?"

Sebastian's mouth was working wordlessly, staring at him with disbelief. His eyes followed Ciel's hands when they grabbed at Sebastian's.

"Look," Ciel said, pulling Sebastian's good hand to eye-level. Sebastian cringed away, disgusted at the sight of the blood, a reminder he didn't need. Ciel began to pull off the gloves from both hands, the coat of dried blood cracking and flaking onto the carpet, revealing his own pale skin. "Look how clean your hands are. Not a drop of blood. Not a _drop._ "

Sebastian was staring as though he had never seen them before. The scar on the back of his left hand, the mark from Ciel's bite, it seemed to stand out now more than ever. As though knowing what Sebastian was thinking, Ciel traced the crescent scar with his index finger. It was a gentler touch than Sebastian had ever expected from Ciel. Gentler still when the finger was replaced by Ciel's lips, a closed mouth kiss pressed against the scar.

The bluster left Ciel then, the urgency to justify what Sebastian had done to both Sebastian and himself fading. Mouth still touching the back of Sebastian's hand, he spoke again, sounding much less sure of himself now.

"We were stupid to think that a strong will and a misguided self-righteousness was going to keep us unscathed. Stupid to think we could actually get out of here unscathed. I ... I've always been arrogant, thinking that everything I think is right just because I'm the one thinking it. Well, I don't have... _we_ don't have the luxury of that arrogance any more. We're not the ones in control here. We never were."

Ciel lowered their hands, still holding Sebastian's wrist.

"We have a choice to make and we have to make it now, Sebastian. We carry on being arrogant and end up dead, or we do whatever we have to and one day get out of this place alive. And if we're _very_ lucky, maybe in more or less one piece."

Slipping one of his hands down, Ciel entwined his fingers with Sebastian's. More than anything else so far, that blindsided Sebastian. The sex aside, it seemed more intimate than Ciel had ever been comfortable being. The kiss on his hand too. That was the first time Ciel had ever kissed him.

"It's not that I'm so desperate to live. It's that arrogance again, you see. I'm just too proud to let myself die in a place like this, by the hands of scum like them. If nothing else, I still have my dignity. And if, in the short-term, I have to lay that dignity down, I will. I'll do whatever I have to do. So long as in the long-term, I get to walk through those gates on my own two feet with my head held high. What about you?"

Sebastian couldn't seem to look away from their joined hands. He squeezed Ciel's hand tightly in his own.

"... I don't want to die here. It's not arrogance. It's not even about dignity. I just... don't want to die in this place, because of those people," Sebastian responded after a drawn out silence. It was the most sure of something he had sounded the entire night.

Ciel pushed his chin up with his free hand, ensuring Sebastian was looking him in the eye.

"So do whatever you have to do, Sebastian. On that ward, with those patients, you do whatever it is you're told, so that when the day comes you can walk through those gates _with_ me."

Sebastian swallowed against a lump in his throat, disbelieving for a moment of whether he had heard Ciel correctly.

"... You want me to hurt them?" he asked.

"I want you to live," Ciel replied, expression cold. He didn't realize the truth of those words until he had said them, but it suddenly seemed to outweigh his own disgust at what he was saying. His disgust was more likely fear of Sebastian changing, in such a way that he wouldn't be tied to Ciel anymore, would align himself with the staff.

He didn't know these Ward V patients. At the end of the day, they were nothing to him. If some of them had to pay the price for Ciel's freedom, for Sebastian's freedom, then that was just how it was.

"Even if it means becoming one of them?" Sebastian asked.

Ciel shook his head, "You'll never be one of them, Sebastian. Not really."

Reaching over with his free hand, ignoring the disgusted voice in his head, Ciel picked up the soiled latex gloves. Sebastian still glanced away from them constantly, but compared to before he was able to stomach looking at them for longer now.

Ciel wore a small smirk.

"Here's what you're going to do, Sebastian – you're going to go to Ward V when you're told to. Before you walk through that door, though, you're going to  leave the name Sebastian right there, outside the ward door. Then you're going to go inside . Before anything else, you're going to put on a pair of these gloves. And do what you're told, whatever that may be. Then when your shift is over, you're going to walk out the door, toss away the gloves, and with them, everything you did in that room. And then you can be Sebastian again, and you can come back to me.

"So long as you're wearing a pair of these gloves, your hands will still be clean, you see?"

Sebastian should have laughed at the ridiculously simple solution for the horrible things he was asking him to do, Ciel felt, but he knew he wouldn't. He knew Sebastian would grasp at the easy out he was being offered, the absolution of responsibility for ghastly acts he would go on to commit. He knew it as surely as he knew he himself would turn a blind eye to it all, no pun intended. For the sake of himself, to protect what little ground he had gained in the last year, he would not simply ignore but actually rationalize Sebastian's actions.

If nothing else, it was as though Sebastian was acting on Ciel's instructions, rather than the staff's. That was a far easier pill to swallow, for them both.

"Yeah," Sebastian replied. A weight seemed to lift from his shoulders. It was much easier to relax when you didn't have to bear the responsibility for your actions. "Yes."

It felt like they had spoken through the night, but it was still dark outside, hardly an hour having passed since Sebastian had first stumbled into the bedroom. Ciel hadn't been able to sleep then, restless and worried. He felt like he could sleep now.

Hands still joined, Ciel stood up. Sebastian followed him to his feet, and then followed just as obediently to the bed. Any other time, any other incident, this would have been a come on. A signal for more. Not tonight, though. They were both exhausted in every way, hollow-eyed and hollow-hearted. For all that they had reached a solution, it was one they both knew was treading a thin line.

Having made their choice, were they really any better than the staff?

"G'night," Sebastian said, squeezing Ciel's fingers between his own. The bed was small but there was still a slight space between them, enough for their hands to rest comfortably.

"Good night," Ciel replied, holding Sebastian's hand tighter as he drifted off into a fitful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so yeah, sorry again for not posting these chapters when they were actually done, and extra big apology for not replying to people's comments here. i'm not often on this site and the email i signed up with is one i don't really use, so i didn't get alerts for your comments, but thank you for taking the time to leave them! i hope you enjoyed the new stuff. i'll try to remember to update here too, but if you want to be sure to see the new chapters when they're posted, you might want to subscribe on ffnet (i know, that site sucks, i'm sorryyyy)
> 
> and if i don't update before then, happy holidays!


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

 

 

The intruding sunlight should go back where it came from. The noise from outside the door should mute. The world could wait. Sebastian wasn't ready to face it yet.

            He kept his eyes scrunched shut, as though to trick himself back to sleep. It had been the most peaceful sleep he'd had in weeks. Months, maybe. No dreams, no tossing and turning, no sudden heart-thundering awakenings. It shouldn't have been so peaceful. If someone had walked in, caught him there, he would have gone from the oven into the frying pan.

            Ciel almost stirred against him, brow furrowing, eyepatch twisting out of place as he shifted. But then a half-snore. He settled again, back pressed snug against Sebastian.

            Sebastian kept still, unwilling to move. If he moved, Ciel would wake up. If Ciel woke up, he'd talk, and Sebastian wasn't sure what he'd say. Whatever it was, it would set their new rules, establish the new status quo. He'd only just settled into their old one. How much would change, for better or for worse?

            He wasn't completely blind. Whether Ciel had tried to mask it or not, he had seen that flash of disgust, the revulsion at what Sebastian had confessed. It wasn't out of affection for him that Ciel had talked their way around the reality of what was happening.

            Old words came back to him uninvited.

_'When you first arrived, I considered using you to get out of here. I didn't care what it would have meant for you, if they'd have locked you up in my place.'_

            Ciel had never been dishonest on that front. It had been as clear as day, from the very beginning. But was that consideration truly gone? He'd mentioned it since, dismissed it out of hand. _They'd come after me,_ he'd reasoned, _drag me back._ A fruitless endeavour, nothing to do with the consequences for Sebastian. Hardly a surprising angle for Ciel to take.

            But was that just calculation? Setting a foundation for later, for now, when Sebastian began to question?

_He held my hand._

            Sebastian shifted a little, curling closer to Ciel. He still didn't wake.

            Ciel used to cringe away from any and all contact, accidental or otherwise. A graze of fingers while handing him a cup would earn a scowl. Brushing against his shoulder as they walked side by side would have him striding three steps ahead. God forbid someone steady him if he stumbled. The look they would get as thanks would put Medusa to shame.

            He had a hedgehog's tactility, as gentle as a jellyfish sting.

            And he had held Sebastian's hand throughout the night.

            Sebastian reached over to straighten Ciel's eyepatch, no thought of peeking underneath in his mind. Where had his curiosity gone, his desire to know anything and everything about Ciel? It seemed irrelevant now; what was under the eyepatch, the value of the missing ring, the fire that ruined Ciel's chance at ever leaving the Institute of his own volition. It had been crucial before. To know, to understand, to peel back every layer until he was satisfied.

            But, now. Just details. Scraps of a past he had no part in, no role to play. Memories belonging to somebody he didn't really know. Whoever Ciel used to be, that person was long gone, as gone as the innocent man Sebastian had been. A day, a week, however long it had been since that day on Ward V, it had changed everything. The Ciel who his Aunt came to visit, the Ciel who received surreptitious letters out of Faustus' view, that wasn't the Ciel he had ever known, and one he knew he never would.

            A missing eye, a missing ring, a missing past. It made no difference now, not to the man Sebastian had become.

 

 

A knock on the door woke Sebastian. The sun was strong through the window now, a few hours on. He hadn't intended to fall back to sleep. The exhaustion of the day before was finally catching up to him.

            The knock came again, quietly insistent.

            'There's, at most, two people with the manners to knock,' Ciel said, voice low, 'Fifty fifty chance this visitor isn't for me.'

            'He was worried last night. He probably checked my room this morning.'

            Sebastian glanced over at the door, at the shadow shifting restlessly beneath the crack. For some reason, he almost found it funny.

            Ciel nudged him.

            'Go in the bathroom for a minute. We don't know who else is out there.'

            Sebastian didn't move straight away, earning himself an impatient look. He still felt sluggish, achy, a bit numb. Opening the door would mean a conversation, concern and questions and apologies, a flood of words Sebastian didn't particularly want to hear. Now or at all. He wasn't sure he had much else to say to Agni, about anything.

            Ciel sat up, looking down at him.

            'I'm not going to say you're not here. That'd just start a wild goose chase. But I can get him to leave, if you want?'

            Was this the new status quo Ciel was establishing? This hesitant sort of consideration from him was odd to see, even odder to receive. It was like seeing someone trying to push the wrong puzzle piece into an ill-fitting gap. It was almost funny.

            'Go in the bathroom. I'll get rid of him.'

            'Thanks,' Sebastian said, after too long a pause.

            Getting out of the bed was harder than it should have been. His joints creaked. His bandages felt too tight. He'd lay on his injured shoulder for too long, felt the throb all the way up to his skull. He'd always had a lot of pride in how fit he kept. It was like he'd aged a good twenty odd years over night.

            Sebastian shut the bathroom door behind him, hearing Ciel open the other door at the same time to cover the noise. The conversation was muffled and abrupt, Ciel's natural abrasiveness a godsend in that moment. The bedroom door clicked shut again.

            Sebastian didn't leave the bathroom. Ciel didn't come in, his footsteps stopping outside the door. It sounded like he'd sat down on the floor instead.

            'Sebastian?' It was rare to hear him hesitant. Sebastian wondered how many people had actually heard him sound so unsure of himself. He was probably one of the honoured few. He didn't feel particularly honoured for it.

            'Hm?'

            'It'd be ... worrying, if you were alright.'

            Sebastian lowered himself to the floor, back against the bath.

            'So if I told you I was, you'd worry?'

            'I'm not so stupid as to think that what I told you last night was okay. That it would magically make things better. The things I said were bad. The things I'm asking you to do are bad. So yes, I'd worry if you were okay with it all.'

            Sebastian couldn't help but stare at the bin beneath the sink. A finger was hanging over the rim, the latex still caked with rusted blood.

            'We're a little beyond _bad_ , aren't we?'

           A long pause. Sebastian wished for a second that they were in the same room, just so he could see Ciel's face.

            'You'll never get over it, you know,' Ciel replied a few moments later, something off in his voice, 'I could lie and say you will, but I'm not going to do that. We're a little beyond lies, aren't we? You're never going to get over it and you'll always remember that person's face and how it felt. It's just going to eat away at you. That's what I should have said last night. That's the truth of it.'

            Sebastian was speechless this time. Then he laughed. It sounded like he'd forgotten how to.

            'No. I couldn't have handled hearing that last night.'

            Sebastian shuffled across the floor, reaching his good arm out. He plucked the ruined gloves from the bin. His skin didn't crawl when he touched them now. He wished it did.

            Ciel didn't ask what Sebastian was doing when he heard the sink run, the splash and squelch of something being washed. Sebastian didn't bother to explain, shoving the still damp gloves into his pocket. It was as clean as they were going to get. It would do.

            He sat beside the door now, head resting against the wall.

            'Patient V7. A man. Big guy, strong fists. That's all I know about him.' The words felt easier to say than he thought they should have.

            Sebastian heard a loud exhale, then, 'I never knew their names. Men and women. At least a dozen. They deserved it. That's all I know about them.'

            'The fire?' Sebastian asked.

            'The fire,' Ciel replied.

 

 

It was almost evening. Sebastian still hadn't left Ciel's bedroom.

            They lay together on the bed, arms resting against each other carelessly, an easy silence the only space between them. Not a single word had been said since Sebastian had left the bathroom. There wasn't really much else to say. Tomorrow there would be, a new day and new problems, but today was their limbo.

            Ciel was staring up at the ceiling. Sometimes his mouth would twist into a frown, his own thoughts annoying him. He didn't share them. Sebastian didn't ask.

            No one else had knocked on the door, though as Ciel had rightly said, it wasn't like anyone else would have the good sense to knock anyway. All it would take would be Soma bursting in and an undesirable like Angela on the ward to throw the whole thing into disarray. Maybe Agni was making himself useful. Maybe they were just having uncharacteristic luck.

            Sebastian breathed a little laugh. Not even an hour after deciding Ciel's past was irrelevant to him did Ciel finally share a scrap of it. If Ciel had told him that last night, would it have helped? Maybe, maybe not. It had helped today. It had made it easier to leave the bathroom. It would make it easier when he decided to leave the bedroom. It and the gloves in his pocket would help when he had to go back to Ward V.

            The thought of returning wasn't as terrifying as it would have been the night before. The terror had watered down into a sort of ache. The ache sat heavily on his chest. It was easier to ignore as the minutes passed, easier still when Sebastian took Ciel's hand in his own.

            Ciel didn't pull away. He continued to stare at the water-stained plaster above, slotting his fingers in-between Sebastian's.

            It felt okay to talk now.

            'Your birthday's soon, isn't it?' Sebastian asked.

            Ciel glanced over, grimacing.

            'Yeah. December fourteenth. Eighteen. Christ.'

            'All grown up.'

            'Allegedly,' Ciel's lip curled, 'Gonna bake me a cake?'

            Sebastian snickered, 'If you want, though I'm fairly certain the only sorts of ingredients they'll have here is arsenic and the like.'

            'Think I'll pass, in that case.' Ciel turned on his side to face Sebastian properly. 'You know, eighteen was always the goal post for me.'

            Sebastian followed suit, sensing the change in tone.

            'How so?'

            'Like you said, all grown up. Legally an adult. For the first few years here, I actually believed them. That they were helping. That I was being rehabilitated. That all this was just a stepping stone. So, eighteen, it just seemed the likely time. To get out.'

            'Learnt better, I take it?'

            Ciel rolled his eye, 'Obviously. Lost a bit of my mind, got a bit of sense. There was no end goal for them. I wasn't moving towards being better, healthy, nothing like that. So I thought, eighteen, legally an adult, they won't be able to keep me here.'

            Sebastian gave a wry laugh, 'Learnt better, I take it?'

            ' _Obviously._ Even I've had my stupider moments. I moved on from them quickly. My Aunt, Ann, broke the news to me when I was thirteen. I'd been here three years. My age was irrelevant. I would only get out of here when _they_ decided I was allowed to.'

            'So. Never.'

            'Exactly.' Ciel exhaled through his nose, rolling onto his back again. 'Eighteen. I don't really want to be eighteen. Feels like I lose when I turn eighteen and I'm no closer to getting out of here.'

            Sebastian squeezed Ciel's hand, 'Yeah. I guess so.'

 

 

The sky was a stretch of black outside the window when someone knocked at the door again. Neither of them moved for a minute or so, Ciel pushing up on his elbows to look. The shadow beneath the door wasn't restless like Agni's had been.

            Ciel squeezed Sebastian's hand, ran his thumb over the thin scar there, then let go.

            Sebastian didn't go into the bathroom this time, just stood in its doorway to listen.

            'Hey,' Freckles greeted, smiling.

            'Hey.' Ciel managed to echo the smile. He glanced past her, scanning the leisure room. It was empty apart from Freckles.

            'You alright?' She was very obviously _not_ checking Ciel's bedroom, not noting the rumpled bedsheets.

            'Fine. You?' It sounded offhand, but the way he stared, Sebastian could see the concern. Now he looked himself, Freckles looked a little gaunter than he remembered, her eyes a little sunken.

            She smiled as though it pained her, dimples and all.

            'Yeah, yeah. We're all fine.' Freckles looked back over her shoulder, eyeing the ward door. 'Jus' wanted to let you know that it's curfew in ten minutes. Agni stepped out, he'll be back in a few.'

            Ciel nodded, beckoning Sebastian over to the door.

            It was alright now, to leave. Any earlier and Sebastian wasn't sure he'd have been able to make himself do it. He'd needed the day, the safe hiding place, the company. But hiding forever was impossible. Still feeling the phantom grip of Ciel's hand, the bulge in his pocket where his gloves were, it was possible to move beyond the limbo of that day.

            'I'm not sure where I'll be tomorrow. Faustus mentioned different things. I'll have to see how things stand,' Sebastian said, walking with Ciel to the ward door. He didn't bother to take out his key-card, seeing Agni's shadow through the frosted glass.

            Freckles went back to her bedroom, closing the door behind her with a quiet click.

            'Right.' Ciel nodded. 'If you get given an option, go for the one as far from him as possible. Goes without saying.'

            'Yes.'

            The door buzzed, Agni unlocking it from the other side. Sebastian hesitated for a moment.

            'Be careful,' Ciel said after a long silence. 'Come back here as soon as you can.'

            'I will,' Sebastian said.

            Promised.

            And left the ward, unsure when he would be back.

 

 

As soon as the ward door shut, Freckles reappeared, stepping out of her bedroom with uncharacteristic caution. Ciel had known this conversation was going to happen. He was just glad it was with Freckles and not the entire group.

            'You're going to get locked out of your bedroom,' Ciel pointed out, if only to stall. He knew the conversation had to happen. He just wasn't in the mood to have it now. An entire night and day in someone else's company had drained him. Even if it was Sebastian, he still needed to recharge, to be alone for awhile.

            'Then I'll be quick,' Freckles replied, leaving her door open and moving towards the two armchairs in the corner.

            Reluctant but resigned, Ciel followed her.

            'You alright?' Freckles repeated. The question wasn't a pleasantry like before.

            'Fine. You?' Ciel's was.

            'No.'

            Skin sallow and sickly. Eyes sunken. She was biting her nails again, biting them bloody.

            No, indeed.

            'Drocell has already accused me of jumping ship. If this is more of the same, then I don't want to hear it.'

            'That's not what I'm sayin'. I wouldn't think that for a second. You know that.'

            'Then, what?'

            As if to prove him right, Freckles brought her hand to her mouth, teeth closing around the raw tip of her index finger. There was hardly a nail there left to bite.

            He should have pulled her hand away, held it like he had held Sebastian's, to stop her doing more damage to herself. He couldn't really bring himself to. He was too tired to touch.

            'I look back and kick myself for it now, y'know. All them jokes. Laughin' along, teasin'. I didn't mean nothin' nasty by it, and I know you weren't bothered, but now I'm wonderin' if maybe we put the idea in your head.' The words were difficult to make out around her gnawing her finger. Maybe that was her intent.

            'What idea?' Ciel wasn't sure why he asked. He knew perfectly well what she meant.

            'Him. You an' him. It was just a laugh. You never took an interest in anybody. So when you did with him, we turned into school kids. "Smile and Sebastian, sittin' in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g."' She laughed humourlessly. 'An' we weren't bein' mean about it, we really weren't. I was happy. You stopped hidin' away so much. You talked to us more. I kinda thought he was like your Agni, but.'

            Her expression darkened.

            'I'm not Soma,' Ciel said, 'He's nothing like Agni.'

            'I know. It was a stupid thought. I get that now.'

            'Freckles, where is this going? Curfew. Remember?'

            Her hand dropped away from her mouth. She hadn't broken the skin, he noted with some relief, though her finger was a sore-looking red. Adjusting in her seat, she looked him in the eye. She hadn't managed to do that until now.

            'What did he do, Ciel?' Freckles asked, more severe than he had ever seen her.

            It wasn't even the question that struck him, had him speechless for a moment too long. It was his name. He couldn't remember her ever using his real name before. From her, it sounded foreign, strange, _wrong._

            Ciel sat forward, looking her in the eye.

            'What he had to do.'

            She waited. For more, for an elaboration, for an excuse. When Ciel gave her none of those things, her face fell.

            'I'm sorry, Smile. I'm sorry. We can't trust him,' she said, shaking her head. Her voice was thick with the threat of tears. 'We just can't.'

            'You don't have to trust him,' Ciel reached out for her hand, 'You just have to trust me.'

            For the first time he could remember, she cringed away from him.

            'I'm so sorry. We can't. Not anymore.' Tears were no longer just a threat. Her cheeks became a blotchy red. 'I'm sorry, Smile.'

            'Freckles ---'

            Her bedroom door shut on him, just in time for the lock in.

 

 

By the end of the week, Sebastian's bruises had faded to a dull yellow. Although his shoulder still twinged every now and then, there was no need to wear the sling, and the bandages came off. The stitches on his shoulder came out too, leaving only a few purpling dents in his skin, the remainder of his surgery.

            By the end of the following week, Doctor had cleared him to return to work.

            'Just take notes. Don't make eye contact with them or draw attention to yourself. A few of them may ask why you're here. I'll answer that question myself. Understood?'

            Faustus shuffled through the files in his hands, arranging them into the order the patients would be seen. He was back in his work clothes. Prim and proper, pressed white shirt and black pants, blandly professional.

            'Understood. Any guidelines for the notes?' Sebastian asked, flipping through the  pages of his clipboard. He'd expected a sort of form, boxes to check, blanks to fill in. This didn't seem professional. Shockingly.

            A knock on the door and Faustus waved his hand dismissively, gesturing for Sebastian to take his seat by the window.

            'Just anything you think is relevant. I'll be taking my own notes as well.'

            The first patient of the day was Wendy.

            A half an hour session. Three questions.

            _'What progress do you feel you have made since our last talk?'_

_'What progress would you have liked to have made by our next talk?'_

_'Is there any topic or question you would like to discuss with me?'_

And then it was done. Wendy felt she had made no progress. She had no idea what progress she could make before their next talk. She had nothing to talk about with Faustus.

            She watched Sebastian anxiously the entire half hour, but she didn't ask what he was doing there.

            The next patient was Snake.

            Progress made: absolute silence.

            Desired progress: absolute silence.

            Topic or question: a beseeching look in his direction that Sebastian didn't quite understand.

            After Snake came Beast, then Dagger. They offered nothing for the first two questions, but in a different way than Wendy and Snake. They didn't give the feel of having nothing to say. They withheld their words, robbing Faustus of any response he could play off.

            They both asked the question.

            'What is he doing here?'

            'Black, why're you 'ere?'

            Just like they had done to him, Faustus withheld the answer, dismissing them from the room without offering his final question. They both retreated, eyeing Sebastian darkly.

            Something had changed.

            Next was Jumbo, then Drocell. Neither had much to say. Drocell was downright hostile, the way he looked at Sebastian balefully. After him came Alois. Sebastian expected something different there, but no, more of the same.

            Progress made: a shrug, a mumble.

            Desired progress: a stare fixed on Faustus' chin rather than his eyes.

            Topic or question: silence.

            Alois didn't seem to notice Sebastian was there at all. When he was dismissed, he slunk from the room, as though his steps were suddenly too heavy for him.

            Soma was next. He seemed to be sulking. When asked about his progress, he shrugged, nose in the air. He was pointedly not looking in Sebastian's direction.

            'I've made so much progress, I've come full circle and made none.'

            When Faustus asked him to elaborate, Soma refused.

            'You're my therapist. You should understand what I'm saying.'

            It was said so petulantly, Sebastian almost cracked a smile.

            Desired progress made Soma wrinkle his nose.

            'I'd like to learn a new language, I think. Maybe French. Everybody speaks French now. I'd hate to be left out.'

            Faustus didn't even dignify that with a response. Moving swiftly on, he asked whether Soma had any questions or a topic he wanted to discuss.

            'I have a grievance,' Soma announced, sitting up straight.

            'Oh?' Faustus put down his pen, leaning across his desk attentively. 'Well, we'll do our best to resolve any grievances. What's troubling you?'

            'Favouritism.'

            Faustus raised an eyebrow.

            'You'll have to elaborate, Soma. What exactly is the problem?'

            Soma mirrored Faustus' position, sitting forward to lean his elbows on the desk, expression faux-blank.

            'My problem is that I'm twenty-three years old and my bedtime is still dictated to me. My problem is that I have a curfew that cuts down the very limited space I already have. My problem is that at eight o'clock I'm either in my bedroom or locked out of it for no good reason at all. All while someone five years younger than me has all the freedom you people allow.'

            Sebastian scribbled some notes, surprised.

            Faustus sat back, his brow furrowing slightly when Soma immediately copied him again.

            'Your grievance is Phantomhive?' he asked.

            'My grievance is the treatment Phantomhive gets,' Soma replied evenly.

            After a pause, Faustus rebutted, 'What you need to understand is that Phantomhive has been a resident here for almost eight years. Incidents of bad behaviour have been minor, to say the least, especially in more recent years. With a long term resident such as him, it's only proper to offer rewards to make the time here more endu ---'

            'I've been here five years. _I_ am a long term resident. I have few _incidents_ to my name, and the ones I do have, I'm more than happy to discuss, if someone would actually listen. I'm co-operative, I behave just as much if not more than he does, so where is my reward?' Soma sounded grand, speaking with a gravity it was rare to hear from him. He almost sounded like the Prince he liked to think he was.

            Faustus toyed with the pen on his desk. Uncomfortable?

            'So what are you asking for, Soma?'

            'I'm not unreasonable,' Soma smiled, 'I want what Ciel has, or for Ciel to have what the rest of us have. No curfew, or a curfew for everybody. All doors locked, or no doors locked. I think it's fair.'

            'I think Phantomhive may disagree,' Faustus replied.

            Soma was resolutely not looking at Sebastian. At first, it had seemed like a childish sort of sulking, but now he wasn't sure. Had something happened between Soma and Ciel? A fight? Sebastian couldn't understand what Soma was trying to do. He had never seemed bothered by Ciel's exception from the curfew before.

            Was this a double cross?

            Faustus agreed to discuss the matter with Angela, dismissing Soma. Soma didn't look satisfied or unsatisfied with the outcome, walking from the room swiftly. He finally glanced Sebastian's way. Sebastian didn't get a good enough look at his expression, but he was sure it wasn't anything pleasant.

            What was going on with the patients?

            Next was Ciel. The questions were the same.

            'What progress do you feel you have made since our last talk?' Faustus asked, pen poised against the paper.

            It had been almost two weeks since he had last seen Ciel. He didn't look any different. Not sickly, not worried, not tired. But then, Faustus was the lead in this situation. Sebastian couldn't quite catch Ciel's eye.

            'Progress... Nothing very interesting. I've been sleeping better, I suppose,' Ciel replied, fussing with his rumpled sleeve.

            'That's good to hear. If the insomnia had gotten any worse, we'd have had to start thinking about changing your medication. Quite late in the day for that. I was worried about the negative effects it could have. So good, good. The sleep itself, would you say it's peaceful, or disturbed?'

            Sebastian frowned, watching closer. Ciel stopped fussing with his sleeve abruptly, then drew his finger over his leg. It was a few movements before Sebastian caught on.

            Behind the desk, Ciel's hand and leg were out of Faustus' view.

            _I-T-E ___ I-T ___ D-O-W-N_

Sebastian followed the looping movement of Ciel's finger, identifying the letters he made, the rest of three beats between the words, and wrote them down on his paper. All the while, Ciel kept talking, answering Faustus' questions with uncharacteristic detail. If Faustus noticed a difference, he didn't question it, dutifully taking his own notes and keeping the conversation going.

            _Y-O-U ___ A-L-R-I-G-H-T_

            Sebastian gave a slight nod, unsure whether Ciel would see or not. Although his focus was on Faustus, he must have, as he began tracing letters again.

            _D-O-N-T ___ W-O-R-R-Y_

            Sebastian frowned, but Ciel mustn't have saw. Instead, he drew a question mark on the paper, tilting the clipboard ever so slightly. A quick glance his way that Faustus didn't notice and Ciel began tracing again.

            _S-O-M-A_

            A longer pause between the last letter and the next. A new sentence.

            _I-T ___ W-A-S ___ A-G-R-E-E-D_

_T-O ___ A-P-P-E-A-S-E ___ T-H-E ___ O-T-H-E-R-S_

Sebastian tilted the board again, displaying the question mark.

            Ciel didn't reply to him immediately, giving more focus to his conversation with Faustus. The subject had changed to progress to be made.

            'I think I've been ... isolating myself lately,' Ciel said, a hint of dejection in his voice.

            'I had noticed. You've been staying in your bedroom during the day more and more. For a period, you were doing so well, interacting with the others. Did something happen? A falling out?' Faustus asked, pen moving swiftly as he scribbled sentence after sentence.

            'Nothing in particular. I've just ... not felt like being with them. But I know that's a bad thing.'

            'A regression,' Faustus agreed, 'But it's good that you're aware of it. Noticing it for yourself without it having to be pointed out, that's very good, Ciel. So now you need to decide what you're going to do about it.'

            Ciel began to trace letters again.

            _P-L-A-Y ___ A-L-O-N-G_

_W-E ___ N-E-E-D ___ T-H-E-M ___ O-N ___S-I-D-E_

_T-H-E-Y ___ A-R-E ___ A-F-R-A-I-D_

            Sebastian wasn't sure what was meant by that yet but he nodded nonetheless. The looks he had received from some, the hostility from others, the outright ignoring from Soma. It began to make sense.

            The patients were afraid, of him.

            'Is there anything _you'd_ like to discuss?' Faustus asked, placing his pen down on the desk.

            'Actually, there is,' Ciel paused, glancing Sebastian's way with an uncomfortable expression, 'Sorry. Not to be rude, but could he step outside for a minute? It's ... a bit personal.'

            Faustus stared for a minute. Sebastian could see Ciel become genuinely uncomfortable beyond the act, but he kept his face straight, meeting Faustus' eyes.

            Faustus nodded, gesturing to the door.

            'Sebastian, wait outside until Ciel leaves,' he instructed brusquely.

            Sebastian stood, pressing the clipboard to his hip, and left the room. He had a fair idea what personal matter Ciel was going to bring up. If it was what had to be done, then it was what had to be done. The last thing they needed was the other patients turning their backs. That sort of division among the ranks could be lethal.

            Sebastian took the opportunity to ball up Ciel's messages, ignoring the bin and shoving the paper in his pocket.

            'Anythin' interestin'?'

            He jumped, despite himself. Joker had approached soundlessly. Judging by his expression, it hadn't been accidental.

            'Just scrap paper.'

            Joker smiled a little, a faux thing.

            'Bin right there.'

            Sebastian just shrugged. The mistrust was as strong in Joker as it had been in all the others. Without Ciel telling him exactly what the plan was, he didn't quite know what to say, how not to misstep any further.

            Silence developed between them, stagnant and pressing. Joker just watched him, waiting for him to say something, do something.

            Faustus' office door opened and Ciel strode out. He nodded at Joker, ignored Sebastian, then was gone.

            'Come in,' Faustus called.

            Joker's questions were invariably the same. He found a middle ground of answering casually without saying anything remotely personal to him. It was a well practiced avoidance, one that had Faustus not even bothering to take a single note. He divided his attention evenly between Faustus and Sebastian, answering to them both.

            Sebastian wondered if he was missing some sort of message.

            At the end of the session, Faustus didn't ask whether Joker had anything he would like to discuss. The absence of what must have been a routine question had Joker faltering. Instead, Faustus instructed Sebastian to move his chair beside Joker's.

            'I was going to wait until Joker had left, but on second thought, as one of our more senior patients, perhaps he can pass on the information to the others for us.'

            Joker frowned, 'What information?'

            Faustus had eyes only for Sebastian now.

            'The matter Phantomhive wanted to discuss privately. Do you have any idea what it might have been?' Faustus asked, toying with his pen.

            Sebastian shook his head, as innocent as could be.

            'Alright. Then I'll ask this; do you believe you have made any ... _inappropriate_ advances towards Phantomhive?'

            Joker shifted in his chair, 'Look, er. Should I really be here for this? Doesn't really feel like any of my business.'

            Faustus ignored him, waiting for Sebastian's answer.

            'I ... don't personally think I've been inappropriate. I can only apologize if I've made Phantomhive uncomfortable in some way,' Sebastian replied. He wished he could have had more of an indication than _play along_ to know how he was supposed to respond. Was he supposed to deny it? Admit it? Finding the middle between the two seemed like the only good option.

            Faustus' hand tightened around the pen, a white-knuckle grip.

            'Regardless of how you see it, Phantomhive has requested that you not work on the ward. As this is a matter of a patient's well-being, I have to act on that request. Joker,' Faustus turned to a visibly uncomfortable Joker, 'You associate with most if not all of the other residents. Do you believe any of them feel unsafe around Michaelis?'

            Joker eyed Sebastian, mouth twisted. There was calculation there, the cogs whirring.

            _Figure it out,_ Sebastian urged, _Play along._

            'They've not said anythin' specific to me,' Joker said slowly, 'But now that I think of it, Doll don't seem as keen on him as she used to be. Not that I'm makin' any accusations, mind. But if Smile's said somethin', probably best to play it safe, yeah?'

            Joker smiled, that same odd little smile from earlier.

            'We wouldn't want nothin' to happen to Smile now, would we?'

            _Oh._ Sebastian watched that flicker of something dark pass over Faustus' face. The way his clenched hand shook. And now Sebastian had noticed, a dozen more things suddenly made much more sense.

            The pages upon pages of notes from Ciel's session, compared to a measly sentence or two from everyone else's.

            The arguing back with Soma over Ciel's rights, rights that only someone in Faustus' position could think about granting in the first place.

            The punishment Ciel received for his involvement in freeing Finny, centred entirely around more time and more sessions with Faustus.

            The promises, the lies, of a possible freedom, all held in Faustus' hand, his decision alone.

            And that _look_ Faustus was giving Sebastian now. What exactly had Ciel said, Sebastian wondered. How much of the truth had he given. How far did that jealousy of Faustus' go.

            'No,' Faustus replied, voice absent of any emotion, 'I wouldn't want that.'

 

 

            'You get it now, yeah?' Joker asked quietly, walking beside Sebastian as he was escorted back to the ward. There was no hostility in him now. Everything about him just seemed ... quiet.

            'How long have you known for?' Sebastian asked, trying to stay just as hushed.

            'Years,' Joker replied, 'I tend to notice these things. Smile knows. Smile ignores it. Plays on it when it suits him. Mostly ignores it though. Think he's more scared of it than he'd ever admit. Last thing he wants to do is encourage the guy. Still.'

            Joker stopped walking. They were long clear of Faustus' office, the hallway completely empty.

            'Still, this could go bad for you, y'know? Gotta assume Smile knows what he's playin' with here. When you came onto the ward a few weeks ago, with all that blood on you, you spooked us somethin' wicked. What happened, man? And do we got reason to want you off the ward?'

            'I was attacked,' Sebastian replied simply, 'So I defended myself. That's all.'

            Joker nodded, 'And this accusation of Smile's? Don't try and play me coz we all know somethin's goin' on there.'

            'Nothing for you to be worried over.'

            'Safe, sane, _consensual_. That's all I need to know on that. But I tell ya, somethin' I do need to know, this defendin' yourself. Disappearin' for almost a month. Hidin' scraps, all suspicious like. It's all makin' you look more like one of them than one of us, and that's somethin' I can't just turn a blind eye to. I need you to understand this -- it wasn't just Smile that came for me back then, got me out of that room, saved my life -- so I want to believe that you're genuine. That you're not someone I gotta second guess every time I see you. You get me?'

            Sebastian pulled the balled up paper out of his pocket, smoothing it out for Joker to see.

            'I'm on Ciel's side. So long as you can trust him, you can trust me.'

            Joker read Ciel's messages.

            'Don't it bother you?' he asked, 'That he said we're afraid of you?'

            'Bother me? No ---'

            'Coz it should, Black,' Joker smiled, that old nickname not sounding nearly as fond as it used to, 'And I think it would have bothered you, before.'

            Joker handed the paper back to Sebastian, giving him a little nod before striding off towards the ward, leaving Sebastian uncertain of just where he stood in the grand scheme of Us and Them.

 

 

Even as a child, Sebastian had never been one for comfort items. There were no special toys he had treasured or a specific blanket that helped him get to sleep. Sentimental, he had never been, so the idea of some item holding the secret to calming his nerves was completely lost on him.

            His fist tightened around the latex gloves, balled up in his pants pocket.

            But then, he had never been one for losing his nerve either, not before St. Victoria's.

            It wasn't the slick, sometimes squeaky way the gloves moved under his fingers when he toyed with them. That sensation went right through him. Neither was it the tight, clinging way they fit on his hands. That was uncomfortable, made him too aware they were there.

            It was the colour. That clinical sort of off-white. Pristine, any smudge immediately noticeable, easily cleaned away. It had taken hours to scrub them completely clean that first time, but the satisfaction when he had, there was no comparison. And it would be easier next time, he knew. There wouldn't be days for the filth to dry, crust, ruin. He wouldn't let the filth make its home there, on the gloves, on him.

            Sebastian stood before the door to Ward V with the gloves clutched tightly in his fist and found that he wasn't afraid.

            _'So long as you're wearing a pair of these gloves, your hands will still be clean, you see?'_

Sebastian clung to those words, slipping the gloves over his hands and walking through the door into Ward V.

 

 

That first time, Sebastian remembers for the cold sweat he broke out in, the way his knees trembled every so often as though about to let him drop, and the inability to forget that his name was Sebastian Michaelis and that he was doing very bad things.

            That first time ended with his swift departure to the residential bathrooms. The door was locked for three hours, during which time he retched so violently, his throat began to ache. His legs refused to obey him when he tried to stand, leaving him to collapse back to the floor in a heap. Two, three, four more tries to stand and Sebastian gave up, letting his clammy forehead drop against the rim of the toilet bowl.

            It didn't feel like a success, even if his hands were spotless after he took the gloves off.

            The next time, the next day, Sebastian woke up an hour before his shift was scheduled to begin after a restless night of tossing and turning. He had gotten out of bed three times, collected his key-card from the desk, and made for his door. Each time, it had taken more effort to go back to bed, to remind himself of just _why_ he couldn't go to Ciel for the time being. So instead, he spent that hour sat at the edge of the bed, the gloves snug over his hands.

            He was getting used to the feel of them. They no longer made his hands itch.

            For that hour, Sebastian practised leaving himself behind in the bedroom, all those things that made it hard to do as they said abandoned until later. What remained of his conscience, his compassion, his morality. He left them on the desk beside his spare uniform, nothing more than garments he could wear or discard as and when he chose.

            That second time, his knees still shook and he still broke out into a cold sweat, but the urge to vomit wasn't as strong as the day before. He only hid in the bathroom for an hour and a half.

            The third day, Sebastian set his alarm clock an hour early. Just like before, he spent that extra hour of his day sat at the edge of his bed, curling and uncurling his gloved fingers, shedding himself of those heavy characteristics. His conscience first, cut away with the sharpness of justification. Compassion next, chipped at bit by bit, weak against the memory of V7's beastly fists pounding down upon his back. And then his sense of morals. That was the hardest to pick away, so deeply rooted, and Sebastian never quite succeeded in leaving behind the knowledge that what he was doing was _wrong._

            So, instead, Sebastian left behind whatever part of him cared about that.

            The third day, his legs still shook and his forehead still glistened with sweat, but once his shift ended a good nine hours later, Sebastian didn't feel as though he was about to be sick at all. His shift ended, he removed the gloves, and went to make himself some dinner. For the first time in a long time, he gave careful consideration to just what he would eat, what he could prepare from the ingredients at hand.

            For the first time in too long, Sebastian enjoyed a meal.

            The fourth day was a trying one. The past three of Sebastian's submission had given his supervisors confidence. Angela began to override Doctor's authority on the ward, to push and prod, trying to find the limits of Sebastian's newfound obedience. He refused to let her find any limit. Every order she gave, he obeyed, his gloves becoming more and more filthy than on any of the previous days. And when she smiled in satisfaction, he smiled back, as though proud of a job well done. He had always taken pride in his work, after all, even work he found distasteful.

            That day, it took a little over an hour at the bathroom sink before he was happy that his gloves were spotless. Although it had gotten late by then, he still went down to the kitchen and made himself something for dinner. The ingredients were difficult for even him to work with, but the end result was as good as the day before.

            The fifth day and it took half the time it usually did before Sebastian was ready to go down to the ward. It was easier already to shed the qualities he didn't need down there, the qualities that dragged him down. There were more spectators now. Angela had brought Ash, and between the both of them, they effectively silenced Doctor completely. That annoyed Sebastian, that unfounded arrogance, and although he followed their orders technically, he did so in a way that left Doctor with the end result he had wanted.

            Angela seethed, but could say nothing. After all, Sebastian had done no wrong.

            As such, when he asked if he could make a request of her, she had no reason to deny him.

            'Yes, what is it?' As curt as she sounded, there was a glimmer of interest in her eyes. It made a change from the usual disdain.

            'I was just wondering if something could be done in regards to the kitchen,' Sebastian said, returning the day's tools to the trolley, 'The ingredients in stock are pitiful. Is there any way we could get a bit more variety?'

            Angela stared for a long moment, as though trying to find some deeper meaning behind the request. She seemed almost disappointed when there was none.

            'Write up a list,' she said curtly, and left the ward with her brother at her heel.

            So ended the first full week of Sebastian's time on Ward V.

 

 

Saturday was the patient's day in the garden. Even now it was nearing the end of November and the weather had turned frightful, the patients still clutched at that small window of freedom, ignoring the cold and the wind to sit outside upon the grass.

            Sebastian volunteered to be one of the monitors, Ronald landed with being the other. He was happy enough to lie down on one of the benches, chatting to any nearby patients, friendly enough. Sebastian wondered about him; had he ever been on Ward V? He was rarely on the main ward, but then, he had never been on Ward V while Sebastian was there either. He didn't have that quality the rest of the staff had, but maybe that was part of the threat he could pose.

           Sebastian sat at a distance from the group, back against the trunk of a tree. Joker had his usual lot around him, Ciel amongst them. Whatever plan Ciel had been playing through during their time apart, it had worked, from the looks of it. Freckles sat on one side, Soma on the other, both smiling happily enough.

            Ciel glanced his way every now and then, when the others weren't looking. Sebastian didn't acknowledge him beyond a small nod. He still wasn't sure where he himself stood in the eyes of that group. It wouldn't do to unravel the work Ciel had done to get back in their good books.

            Drocell and Snake kept to themselves across the lawn. Alois was nowhere to be seen. Otherwise, all present and accounted for.

            The morning dragged on, the chilly wind picking up. Ciel's glances over at him became more meaningful, more deliberate. Only half sure it was what he was asking for, Sebastian stood and left, walking around the side of the building and out of sight.

            It must have been a correct guess as Ciel joined him not long after.

            'You don't look terrible,' was the first thing Ciel said to him after almost a month of being apart.

            'Careful, I might swoon,' Sebastian replied, following Ciel's lead in sitting against the wall of the building.

            They caught up with each other quickly, knowing their time together was short. Ciel confirmed he had gotten back in with Joker and the others, even if it was in a way he avoided directly saying. After some pushing from Sebastian and what may have been an embarrassed flush from Ciel, he finally admitted, 'I may have led them to make the conclusion that my feelings towards you are somewhat Stockholm Syndrome in nature. Now they're treating me like a heartbroken teenager. I'm _this_ close to hitting whoever talks to me in that patronizing tone next.'

            Sebastian laughed, 'So I broke your heart, did I? What a brute. I do apologize.'

            'I'll be breaking something of yours if you don't shut up,' Ciel snapped, still slightly red in the face, 'We haven't got the time for this. What's happened on your end?'

            Sebastian recounted his own side of events, omitting some of the more gruesome details. Even so, the colour quickly drained from Ciel's face, and it was with a heavier atmosphere that their conversation continued.

            'So they're pleased with you,' Ciel concluded, voice a bit tight, 'Good.'

            'I'm not in any immediate danger, at least,' Sebastian adjusted. Ciel's expression was making his chest tighten in a way it hadn't since the first day on the ward that week. He found himself turning his hand over, an invitation he hadn't consciously decided to make.

            After a pause that threatened to never end, Ciel slipped his hand into Sebastian's, knotting their fingers together with a squeeze.

            'That's the important thing. Like I said before, do whatever you have to do.' It sounded more like Ciel was reminding himself than Sebastian, but that was alright. Sebastian squeezed Ciel's hand in return, brushing his thumb over Ciel's.

            There was a question that came to Sebastian then, one that he didn't really want to ask, but wanted more than anything right then to hear the answer.

            'A lot of what you've done, you did to stop the staff from changing me into one of them,' Sebastian said, forcing himself to meet Ciel's eyes, 'Do you regret doing those things now, considering how it's all turned out?'

            Sebastian had expected a hesitation, for Ciel to pause and stare and think up a dozen different possible answers before giving the one that benefitted him most. Instead, Ciel mirrored that affectionate little stroke, moving his thumb back and forth in a soothing gesture, and answered straight away.

            'I don't regret any of the things I've done. They didn't change you, Sebastian,' Ciel said, his smile bitter, 'I changed you.'


	27. Chapter 27 (Part One)

It had gotten colder over the last few days. Even inside the building, the air was frigid. What little heating they were given was fighting a losing battle. It was worse inside the bathroom. The cold tiled floor, all the porcelain fixtures, that cool white colour. It stole all the warmth away, leaving Alois to burrow deeper into his blanket, sat huddled against the wall.

            His bed would be warmer. It was already late, or rather, so late it was early. His eyelids drooped as his body teased him with a promise of sleep it hadn't made good on for almost three days.

            _He gets angry over the smallest things._

            The journal was falling apart in his hands these days. Between his own outburst, his carelessness when hiding it, and its more frequent use, there was not a page that didn't have a tear on it somewhere. The spine had snapped a while ago. The pages were being held in with an elastic band around the middle. The leather on the cover was hanging off at the sides.

            It had been a beautiful gift. It may have stayed that way if it had been given to anybody else but him.

            _But his voice sounds wrong when he's angry._

            Alois had already filled all of the pages of the journal, front and back. Whatever he had written, he could no longer read, as his new notes were scrawled over the old ones. At least no one else would be able to read them either.

            _It sounds too old for him. And too angry. Luka never knew anger like that._

            The words were so small that his hand ached keeping the movements of the pen so tight. He liked to think that he was saving ink by writing so small. He was afraid to run out of ink. If he did, his thoughts would have nowhere else to go, and he certainly didn't want them to stay inside of him.

            _Others keep trying to talk to me. Soma and Joker. I don't understand why they won't leave me alone now, but Luka doesn't like it. He says they're making fun of me. It makes him mad._

            There was a knock at the bathroom door. The smallest little knock, from a hand too small to be anyone else. Alois ignored it.

            _I wish it made me mad. I don't understand why it doesn't. Soma used to hate me. Why is he being so nice to me now? Maybe Luka is right. I can't think of any other reason._

            The knock came again. Louder now. More impatient. Alois still ignored it, even if he flinched at every little thump on the wood.

            _Luka says that they're trying to take him away from me. But he says that about everybody. I don't think he wants me to have friends. But they're not my friends anyway. So why are they bothering?_

            It was less of a knock and more of a slam now. The pen fell from Alois' hand when a voice followed it.

            'Jim, why won't you let me in?'

            That was Luka's voice, without the distortion of anger it so often had these days. He sounded on the verge of tears and Alois wavered. It was a trick, he knew, but it was a trick that was working. Even with the knowledge that as soon as he opened the door and let him in, Luka would be spitting venom at him, Alois still felt compelled to do so.

            He bit down on that urge, that big brother's instinct to make the tears stop before they could start, and picked up his pen again.

            If Luka really wanted to come in, he didn't need Alois to open the door anyway.

            _I want to ask Claude. He always used to explain these things to me. I don't understand people and their motives, but he does. But what if he talks to them and they say something bad about me? He knows Luka's name. I told him everything. If they heard me say it, he'll know._

            'Jiiiiiiiim, please let me in.' A whine that threatened to become a tantrum any second now. Alois could picture him stood outside of the door, cheeks puffed out in annoyance, bottom lip trembling, maybe a bit too exaggerated to be genuine. But the reddening face and shining eyes would be genuine enough, nothing fake about the confusion and hurt of being locked out from the safe place, from the only person he was safe with.

            Alois' hand shook around the pen, his grip so tight it was leaving a deep indent on his fingers.

            _Claude can't know. This would be the final straw. He'd wash his hands of me completely._

            The pen fell to the floor as Alois darted over, letting Luka in with a rush of apologies. He chose to ignore that Luka looked nothing like he had imagined he would. There were no tears, no red cheeks, no trembling bottom lip. He looked normal, but he looked like nothing at all too. Alois chose not to see that, chose not to look too closely at all.

            Once he started seeing the flaws, everything would unravel.

 

 

It was a haphazard mixture of happiness, fear and wilful ignorance. Those were the three pillars that Alois' current existence depended on.

            The happiness, when it was there, cast out all the bad things. The loneliness was gone because he had Luka. The jealousy was tempered down because, even if Ciel and Claude had come together in a way Alois could only have dreamed of, at least he still had Luka, and they would never be able to take him away. The nightmares that still hung at the edges of his dreams, the perhaps unintentional ostracising from the rest of the patients, the treatments that left him reeling and weak. Even the guilt that had set its roots deep within him, somewhere even he couldn't reach, even that faded away when the happiness was there.

            The happiness made it all worth it, until it disappeared without the smallest of warnings.

            Then there was the fear. The fear came when Alois woke in the mornings to find himself alone once again. The fear came when someone noticed him looking into thin air and frowned thoughtfully. The fear grew when Luka twisted into something unrecognizable, something bitter and resentful and all too familiar. The fear was strongest when Luka tried to get him to do things. To shout, to hit, to hurt.

            It was hard to remember he had ever been happy about Luka's return when the fear was at its strongest.

            And then the wilful ignorance. That was actually the easiest part. All it required was looking away from things he didn't want to see, and Alois was well-practised in that, had been doing just that for years upon years. When Luka's voice took on a different sound, he pretended not to hear. When Luka's eyes looked more blue than brown, Alois shut his own. When Luka disappeared right when Alois was going to hug him or stroke his hair or try to give any sort of affection, Alois pretended there was no link between the two things.

            These were the pillars sustaining Alois, but as the days crawled by, those pillars began to weaken, to crumble, to fall.

 

 

When Alois had first met Claude, he wasn't Alois yet. That name came a while later, following the mistake, the very bad thing, and the pathetic excuse for a funeral. Bad things came in threes, after all, and in Alois' case, they had only made way for even worse things to develop.

            But before the bad things came one year. The good year. The year when Alois had not yet become Alois, and the year when his saviour appeared.

            At first, his saviour seemed just like every other adult Jim had ever known. Greedy and self-serving, full of double-edged words and dubious intentions, with wandering eyes and wandering hands. He appeared as the adults always did. Welcomed like a saint through the doors of the care home, the other adults plying them with compliments and funny anecdotes about their least favourite children, the ones they were only too happy to part with. And just like all the other adults, Jim's saviour had nodded, laughed at the right times, assessed the children with a critical eye.

            And so Jim had disappeared with Luka. They went to their secret place where they didn't have a bedtime or unwelcome midnight visitors. Here, they could play for as long as they wanted. There was no one there to stop them.

            They stayed there for three days. By the end of the first, Luka was asking questions.

            _'Why aren't we going back yet?'_

_'I'm hungry, can we go back now?'_

_'Jim, we're gonna get in trouble, can we please go back?'_

Jim ignored each and every one. Even he couldn't understand his own worry. The man hadn't looked at him twice yet he was oddly sure of his interest anyway. He had the same quality as the Trancy man did when he came to the home. He may have been younger, cleaner, better at wearing humanity, but the two were the same nonetheless, Jim was sure of it.

            But hunger got the better of them. It was mercilessly cold in the den. Luka's patience ran out by the third day. With or without Jim, he was going back to the home. Unable to justify just why that was the worst thing they could do, Jim gave in, following Luka back with his tail between his legs.

            The man was gone. After a brutal telling-off, with more bruises than words, things returned to normal, for the time being.

            Not that normal was good. Normal was neglect; being left until the pangs of hunger robbed your legs of all their strength, until the stench of you was so strong people in the street would stare. Normal was the wrong kind of attention; potential adoptees with no love in their hearts, with too much money in their wallets and a mind to make more.

            Child trafficking was as much a business as any other, after all.

            But normal was the lives they led, so Jim resumed the daily grind, little thought of that man in his mind. There were other men to think of, and women too. Women could be just as vile as men, even if they hid it better, their maternal smiles the cruellest trick of all.

            Jim didn't draw much interest, fortunately, so he avoided the worst of the guests. The same was true of Luka. While his younger age was a good commodity, he did not have so extraordinary a face as to draw in the higher bidders. But between the two of them, they had secured the interest of a wealthy man, by the name of Trancy. They had yet to be handed over, Trancy bartering the price down and dithering over the formalities, but it was known throughout the home that Jim and Luka were no longer free children.

            They made the most of the time they had left. They spent more time in the den than in the home. They avoided returning as much as possible, to the point of begging for food in the town square. Jim learned what it was to be ignored on those days. He was never more invisible than when he was asking for help.

            Though there was one woman. She would stop whenever she passed. She wouldn't give them money, but she would disappear for a while, then return with food. She didn't say anything to them, just handed them the food and left, but they didn't need her words to come to love her.

            'I want to live with her,' Luka would say, more sad than happy after her visits. That retreating back seemed miles away.

            Jim just kept silent. There was something about her, a gleam in those odd purple eyes that he just couldn't bring himself to trust.

            By the time that man came again, Jim had forgotten all about him.

 

 

Another Wednesday, another group session in the leisure room. The tone was decidedly different from its usual energetic one. There was no banter, no half-hearted insults and catty jokes bandying back and forth. Silence reigned over the group, even Joker sitting tight-lipped.

            Grey stopped chewing on the end of his pen, pulling it out of his mouth with a grimace.

            'Christ. Who died?' he asked, glancing around at the stony faces looking back at him.

            A beat of silence, and then he laughed riotously at his own joke.

            Phipps just rolled his eyes, doodling little flowers on his clipboard.

            'Come oooooooon, it's not like it's anyone you even _knew_. Cheer up!' Grey was smiling happily enough for the rest of them, his own good cheer not touched in the slightest.

            At least until no one responded. No one even gave him the usual dirty look.

            His mood quickly soured when he didn't get the response he wanted.

            'Fine, be that way. Miserable, the lot of you.' Grey sighed, sinking lower in his chair. His boredom seemed to permeate them all, infecting them with a restlessness they couldn't do anything about even if they wanted to. 'Let's just get this over with then. Go round the circle, starting with _you,_ and tell me one good thing about your week and one bad thing. And at least try to make it interesting, _please_.'

            Poor Dagger was the chosen one. All he could muster was that it had gotten a bit warmer but that it was still really cold. He was rewarded by Grey blowing a raspberry in his general direction.

            No one else managed much better.

            Alois struggled to think of something he could say when he heard a low, frustrated noise from Luka, sat on the floor beside his chair. Unable to actually ask him, Alois gave him a questioning glance.

            'He's staring at me again,' Luka growled, eyes narrowed across the circle.

            Alois didn't even have to look to know who Luka was talking about.

            _No, he's not,_ Alois thought, knowing without a shadow of a doubt that Luka would hear and reply as normally as if he had spoken out loud, _He doesn't look at us anymore._

            'Yes, he is,' Luka replied, something nasty about the way his lip was twisting down at the sides, 'He's staring at me. Make him stop.'

            Alois found himself looking over then. True enough, Ciel was looking in their direction, but his eye was glazed over with a sightless sheen. He was miles away.

            _He's daydreaming,_ Alois said, _We're just sat across from him, that's all._

            'No, he's watching me!' Luka was starting to shout now, or maybe he had been shouting the whole time. Alois wasn't sure. But the voice began to sound too deep, so Alois pretended not to hear it at all. 'Don't ignore me.' Deeper still, angrier now. It shouldn't have been frightening, not from a boy no older than eight, but such succinct words managed to carry a lot of threat.

            Worse still was the knowledge that the threat wasn't to him at all.

            _Just don't pay any attention to him. If you just ignore him, he won't bother you,_ Alois replied, something almost like a plea about the words

            Fortunately, Ciel's turn came up and he was pulled back into the room. He just shrugged at the question, impervious to Grey's goading response, as unruffled as ever.

            'They're not even making him answer,' Luka said, distracting Alois, 'Everyone's little favourite, isn't he? If you tried that, they'd make you regret it, but not him.'

            Luka had stood up beside Alois' chair. He was little more than half Alois' size yet he seemed to loom over him now. His little hands were curled into fists.

            _Please leave it alone,_ Alois was outright pleading now, an exhaustion he hadn't noticed until then making itself known, _Please._

            'It's like he thinks he owns this place. It and everyone in it. He just takes his pick from everyone, whoever he feels like paying attention to that day, and we all just _go_ with it. Doesn't it make you sick?' Luka strode across the circle, each step slow and careful, a predator's stalk. For a moment, Alois almost expected Ciel to look up, to see his soon to be attacker, and it wasn't until he felt that crushing disappointment that he realised that was what he wanted more than anything. For someone, anyone, to _see_ what was happening.

            'Trancyyyyyyy.'

            'He doesn't deserve any of it,' Luka spat, face twisted beyond recognition. Alois couldn't look too closely at it in fear of finding recognition though. It was a certainty that if he did, there was no coming back. 'It's his fault, Jim. He took what was ours. It's his fault we're still here, still like this.'

            _Shut up_ , Alois thought, implored. But Luka wouldn't listen. He was standing in front of Ciel now, little fists trembling in an anger Alois found baffling. _Shut up!_

            'Oi, nutcase.'

            'If he weren't here, everything would get better, Jim. You know it's true. If he weren't here, Claude would look at me again, love me again ---'

            'Shut up!' Alois yelled, nails cutting into the flesh of his palms.

            And then Luka wasn't there anymore. It was him stood over Ciel, him glaring down with spite, him the entire circle was looking at with trepidation. Ciel was looking up at him, stock still in his seat, something more than surprise on his face.

            Alois was breathing heavily. A chill ran through him as he came back to himself, turning to look at his own empty chair with confusion. When had he moved?

            Joker slowly rose to his feet.

            The chill turned to fear.

            'Sit down, Alois,' Ciel said softly, gesturing Joker back. Even so, Joker was watching Alois carefully, knowingly. This wasn't the first time he had seen Alois lose it recently. Neither was this the first time Alois had erupted like this. Ciel couldn't spare another eye. 'Just sit down.'

            Alois tried to find a hint of what Ciel was thinking on his face, but as always, he was a closed book to him. How much of Luka's words did everyone hear? Or was it just Alois' own outburst that bled through? He couldn't tell.

            'Sit down,' Ciel repeated, tone turning to steel. It was starting to sound like an order.

            Alois fled to his bedroom.

 

 

The second time Alois met Claude, he was no closer to becoming Alois.

            Enough time had passed that Jim barely recognised the man. Whatever uneasiness he had felt back then, it wasn't so special a thing that it had a place in his memories. Everything seemed important in the moment, after all, and while it would have been idealistically romantic to say otherwise, Jim didn't give the man a second glance as he sprinted past him in the hallway.

            Angry voices followed him, only fuelling his escape.

            _It wasn't me!_

            He couldn't say that. If he did, it would be throwing Luka to the wolves. But still, the unfairness of it all boiled over within him. It seemed that he did wrong even when he was doing right. Weeks of good behaviour down the drain because of Luka's clumsiness.

            Still, that nasty old bastard had it coming. Going for Luka like that, didn't he know they were already claimed?

            Jim hadn't poured the hot tea over the pervert's lap. Luka had spilled it, the kettle just that bit too heavy for his small hands. But whether it was an accident or not, the man didn't care, that roar of pain and anger too familiar to them all. Just seeing the colour drain from Luka's face like that had been too much for Jim. Throwing his weeks of good work down the drain, he had shoved Luka behind him, playing at apologetic.

            The children were interchangeable to men like him. He didn't notice it was a different boy than the one who had been tending his table.

            The crack across the face had made stars burst to life behind Jim's eyelids. The blood rushing in his ears was all the sound he could hear. He didn't even feel himself fall to the floor, just noticed he was there after the daze passed, when the world came rushing back to him.

            Later, he would blame the smack. It had knocked him a bit senseless, he would claim, made him forget his place for a moment.

            They wouldn't accept that excuse but that wouldn't heal the nasty, deep gouges Jim left across the old man's face. He hadn't been aiming for the man's eye but it was satisfying to feel his nails rake across it nonetheless. Even more satisfying was his howl, more surprise than anything.

            Men like him never expected to be hurt in turn.

            The momentary senselessness left him as quickly as it had came, just in time for the handlers to begin screaming at him, running at him with intent. Harming a client was unheard of. The punishment for it was beyond imagining.

            So Jim ran, and didn't stop running until he reached the den, the only safe place.

            _He deserved it,_ Jim repeated over and over, mouth closed tight against a sob. The man's blood was dried beneath his fingernails, itchy and uncomfortable. _He hit me first._

            His cheek had swollen. It throbbed with a red hot pulse, a tender cut inside his mouth that his tongue kept seeking out. The bruise would be immense. No doubt he'd be punished for that too. They hated it when the children's faces were damaged. Hopefully Trancy wouldn't visit until the bruise was gone.

            Jim hoped Luka was alright. What he had done would no doubt overshadow Luka's accident, but even so, he was worried. Not worried enough to return though. Just the thought of going back made his stomach twist nauseously.

            There was a rustling outside the den.

            Jim's mood lifted, 'Luka?'

            The door of the decrepit old shed was pushed open carefully, as though the person was unsure the hinges would hold. Just seeing that had Jim curling up into himself, nausea intensifying.

            An adult walked in, eyeing the den. He gave the whole thing a once-over before even acknowledging Jim, and still, he was more interested in wiping his hands clean on his trousers.

            It was the eyes that struck Jim. A horrible colour, narrow like a cat's. More than anything, they were cold.

            'That was quite a scene,' the man said, towering over Jim. He wasn't dressed like a rich man. Clients of the home usually wore their wealth proudly. If this man had any wealth to speak of, he was keeping quiet about it. A plain grey jumper, dark pants, no embellishments to speak of. It all looked cheap. Threadbare, even. But there was a richness in his voice, a quiet sort of importance that only people with money or power ever seemed to have.

            It wasn't that Jim felt there was a danger from the man. What danger could the man pose that wasn't always a hanging threat anyway? But he was a client of the home, and right now, Jim was vulnerable. It was the biggest mistake he could make to let a client see him vulnerable.

            Shoving away how unbalanced the man's sudden appearance had made him, Jim swiped his sleeve along his face, getting rid of any tears. Even though it made his cheek ache with a renewed vigour, he trained his face into a more neutral expression, not a hint of anything there for the man to see, to use.

            With a flippancy he didn't feel, Jim said, 'We like to put on a good show.'

            The man didn't crack a smile but Jim got the impression he was amused nonetheless.

            Swiping his foot along the floor and eyeing the dust it kicked up, he crouched down to be on level with Jim, though careful not to actually sit on the dirty ground of the shed. He extended his hand and it was the first Jim noticed that he was holding something.

            'That's awfully nasty,' the man observed, eyeing the purpling swell of Jim's cheek, 'Though I think the other person came out of it worse.'

            It sounded like a compliment.

            'You shouldn't hit if you don't want to get hit back,' Jim said, false bluster growing by the minute. He snatched the little cold compress. It was already softening, what little ice it had inside melting, but the relief when he pressed it against his cheek was without comparison.

            'True,' the man replied. He stood up now that Jim had accepted his offering, moved away a distance. It was a while before he said anything again, and when he did, he didn't look back over at him. 'Your friend told me where to go. He was very upset. But I wouldn't worry, if I were you. They're more concerned with placating your victim than with finding you. I doubt they're looking very hard.'

            Jim waited for him to say more before he even thought about replying. Though it hurt his cheek to do so, he smirked.

            'You're a liar. Luka wouldn't tell anyone about this place. You followed me here yourself.'

            The man turned to look at him then. Again, Jim got that odd feeling that he was amused, as though he were smiling without actually smiling. Yet it wasn't an unpleasant thing, that sort of attention.

            'Alright,' the man didn't even try to deny it, 'In future, I might suggest making a detour when you're running away, especially if you think people may be following you.'

            The cold compress had left Jim's hand slick with water, more warm than cold now. He dropped his hand from his cheek, dropped the now useless compress to the floor. He really didn't know how to take this man.

            'Why are you here?' It was said with more aggression than Jim actually felt. Jim often found himself letting things like aggression and anger and violence bleed out without even realizing he was feeling them at all. Sometimes he only knew himself when he let other people know him.

            'Because I thought you'd be crying,' the man said, as though it were the simplest thing in the world, 'I can't leave a child alone when they might be crying.'

            Jim didn't know how to take that. Jim didn't understand this man at all.

            'I'm not crying,' he said, more defensively than intended.

            The man could have pointed out his red-rimmed eyes, or the telling little stains on his cheeks, but instead, he just nodded and said, 'Good.'

            Jim didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything. But he couldn't bring himself to look away from the discarded cold compress on the floor. His cheek didn't hurt nearly as badly now. Where had the man even gotten that from? They didn't have things like that in the home. If he had followed Jim straight away then why had he taken so long to appear? Could he have made a diversion to get the compress, especially for Jim?

            _I can't leave a child alone when they might be crying._

He was a liar. There was a real reason why he had followed Jim down, why he had chosen to give Jim something to ease the pain. There was an ulterior motive and it had nothing to do with caring or being kind or having a shred of compassion in him. The sort of people who came to the home had no compassion in their souls, no kindness in their hearts.

            Even if Jim couldn't figure out what the real reason was, he knew the man was lying. He had to be.

            For an hour, and then two, and almost to three, the two of them remained in the shed, completely silent and not acknowledging each other's presence at all. Not to say they weren't aware of each other. Jim, at least, was very aware of the man. He kept waiting for the man to start talking again, to tell more lies, or to make a move towards him. They were alone, after all, and no one was around to hear.

            But the only move the man made was to open the shed door. The only words he said were to ask Jim if he was ready to return to the home.

            Unable to put it off any longer, Jim nodded, following the man out of the den and back towards the care home.

            Unsurprisingly, the welcome back was not a warm one. As soon as the manager saw Jim, his steps took on a predatory nature, his hands curling into claws. At least until he saw who Jim was with. Then he froze, not so much the predator anymore as he was the prey.

            'Mr. Faustus. We thought you'd left.' Jim had never heard the manager sound so sheepish. It was quite thrilling, to see him cower. Jim felt almost powerful for a moment, forgetting that the man was stood beside him, that it wasn't Jim's presence that brought the manager up short.

            'No, just went for a wander,' the man replied. There was a dismissive quality to the response. He was paying more attention to Jim than to the manager. 'After that display earlier, I needed a breath of fresh air.'

            The manager's confidence returned to him.

            'Yes. I cannot apologise enough. I assure you, appropriate punishment will be ---'

            'Civilised men acting like infants,' the man cut across, shaking his head while looking at Jim. It felt like being inside on a joke, like being included in the laugh rather than being the target. It felt good. 'A bit of spilt tea and all hell breaks loose. What kind of establishment are you running here?'

            The manager was speechless, a rare sight. Jim didn't realise he was grinning until the man gave a small smile back, the first time he had seen him smile. Immediately, Jim composed himself, wiped clean the grin. _Idiot, don't let him see you fall for his tricks._ After all these years, he was angry at himself for still being so susceptible to even the smallest of gestures.

            But still, he filed away the memory of that first smile, however unconsciously. It was the first time someone other than Luka had seemed happy because of him.

            'I ... can only apologise,' the manager responded weakly, obviously uncertain of how to act. The man must have been much more affluent than he appeared, to have that grisly manager so compliant.

            'All this talk of punishments, it worries me. Look at the damage that brute already did,' the man gestured to Jim's mottled cheek, careful not to actually touch, 'I want an assurance that no more harm will be done to the boy. Consider this an expression of interest.'

            An expression of interest. A guarantee of safety. Through just one sentence, Jim was promised protection. He stared at the man, bewildered. The manager shared that bewilderment.

            'Mr. Faustus, this boy ... he's already spoken for. A deal is in the talks as we speak.'

            Hating himself for it, a spark of hope began to burn in Jim's heart. This was the first moment in which the word _saviour_ crossed his mind, became indelibly attached to that man. Perhaps that was the first mistake.

            'And I'm joining those talks. Go on, go tell the Chairman, have the matter brought to his attention immediately.'

            Like a collared mutt, the manager turned heel and departed, a haste in him to follow those orders immediately. That left just the two of them in the corridor, Jim still staring up at the man in bewilderment.

            'What're you doing?' he asked, a bite to the words. His confusion was mutating into anger somewhere between his brain and his mouth. He didn't mean to sound so angry. He couldn't take it back and risk losing face, though.

            'Like I said, I can't just leave a crying child alone,' the man replied.

            Jim didn't deny it this time. Instead, he turned to face the man, expression contorting with the anger he didn't want to have.

            'Every kid in this building is crying. What about them?'

            And just as simply as before, as though there was no plainer a fact in the world, the man said, 'But I didn't see them. I only saw you.'

 

 

Luka was relentless.

            'Why did you leave?!'

            'Coward, coward, coward!'

            'This is why he won't look at you anymore, Jim.'

            'You're _pathetic_.'

            Alois huddled tighter, forehead against his knees. His hands wouldn't stop trembling.

            'Please stop.' There were no tears. A dry, exhausted plea. 'Please.'

            Luka seemed so much bigger than Alois knew him to be. That tiny boy loomed over him, blocked out all the light. His voice was like a boom of thunder. There was no keeping it out, no matter how tightly Alois clenched his hands over his ears.

            'Did you see his face?' It was abruptly not a shout. Conversational, almost. Mocking. 'Your so-called friend, not a bit worried. He just wanted you to get away from him.'

            Luka's voice was at his ear now, but when Alois turned to look, his brother was nowhere to be seen. Still, the voice spoke.

            'You thought you were special, didn't you?' It said, spite in every syllable, 'It was different from Claude. 'Cause he didn't like anybody, didn't bother with anybody. But he bothered with you, even after you _attacked_ him ---'

            'I didn't mean to,' Alois objected weakly, but it was lost amidst the torrent of Luka's accusations.

            'Even after you hurt him and Claude stopped loving you. He still saw you. It made you think you were special,' Luka laughed the word. That alone made Alois feel two times as small, as insignificant, 'But that's just what he wanted you to think. It benefitted him to have you think that. But not now. Now you're nothing to him, nothing to them both.'

            _'Please.'_

            A timid knock at the door and Luka was gone.

            Hope bloomed for an instant. A name crossed his mind.

            'Erm, hey.' But that wasn't the voice he wanted to hear. That wasn't the face he wanted to see. The hope died as quickly as it had come to life, leaving Alois feeling all the more empty for its absence. 'Can I come in?'

            Soma peered around the barely-open door, wariness shrouding him. He gave a wavering smile when Alois looked over, but when the look was the only response he was given, it fell away.

            'Yes? No? Piss off?' Soma laughed awkwardly, inching further into the room. He was still holding on to the door though, as though prepared to make a quick getaway.

            Alois didn't even have the energy to tell him to leave.

            The silence as Soma waited for a response was excruciatingly long for the both of them. Even the crickets didn't dare chirp.

            'Do you want me to leave the door open?' Soma eventually asked, letting the smile drop completely. Seeing him serious was always disconcerting.

            _You want to leave the door open,_ Alois thought bitingly, _To get away from me faster._

            When Alois maintained his silence, Soma nodded, as though that was reply enough, and closed the bedroom door. Without asking for any more permission, all hesitance abandoned, he sauntered across the room to sit on Alois' bed.

            'Soooooooo. That was quite a scene.'

            Alois shook his head. The words sounded too familiar.

            'I mean, Ciel can wind me up with his smart-arse comments sometimes too, but I don't think I've ever shouted in his face for him to shut up like that,' Soma grinned, leaning back on his hands, 'Shoved him out of chairs a few times, but nothing that direct. You've got more nerve than me, gotta give you that.'

            _Stop it._ Soma was smiling at him with too much friendliness. He was speaking to him too familiarly. Like they were friends, just sharing a joke. Alois couldn't understand it. _Stop pretending._

            'Still, he wasn't _actually_ saying anything before. So, you can understand why we were all a bit confused.' Soma looked over, pausing to see if Alois was going to talk. No such luck. 'You know, I kinda thought, after last time, you and me might talk some more. I was waiting for you to come to me, but you never did. I get that I should probably take the hint, but ...'

            Being crushed by one of Luka's crueller outbursts. The first time someone had hugged him in years. That gentle touch had broken whatever was left in him. Alois had clung to Soma like a lifeline, but once the moment had passed, he hadn't dared to so much as look Soma in the eye. He had heard, after all. That mournful cry. That incriminating name.

            _I don't understand what you want._

            'I just wanted to make it clear. To say it plain,' Soma said, trying and failing to get Alois to make eye contact, 'We can all see you're not alright. I know we've all had our differences. You and me especially, we've never been on the same page. But at the end of the day, we're still in the same boat.'

            _I don't understand what you're getting from this._

            'Differences aside, I don't want anything to happen to you. So ... if you want to talk, I'm willing to listen. I'm pretty good at advice. In fact, I'd say I'm better than everyone here at giving advice. I'm much more worldly, y'see.'

            Soma smiled and Alois wanted desperately to believe it. He lifted his head, meeting Soma's eyes at last.

            _Someone put him up to this,_ that wasn't Alois' voice in his head. Luka was making himself known once more, even if he wasn't appearing like he usually did. _Are you really stupid enough to believe he cares? He's always hated you. He saw what you did to Ciel's eye. He's thought you were a monster ever since._

            Alois tried to return Soma's smile but it died on his lips as Luka's voice grew louder.

            _Remember how he looked at you? He's never looked at anyone else like that. No one else has made him hate them. No one but you._

            'So, what do you say?' Soma extended his hand, holding it out for Alois to take. 'Friends?'

            _Go on, fall for it. Just like they want you to. Then you'll see. You'll see what they really think of you. What they really want to happen to you._

_Go on, DO IT._

            Alois reached out, desperate to take the offer, to grasp at Soma's gesture before it was tore away. But every bit closer he came to Soma, the louder Luka's voice became, more vicious, more convincing.

            Soma's face fell as his hand was slapped away.

            'Out,' Alois said, voice flat. He wished he could sound more emphatic. He wished he could convince even himself that he meant it. 'Get _out.'_

            Soma just sat there for a long moment. He didn't look surprised but there was something much stronger than disappointment in his face. His hand just hung there in the air, the rejection a sharp sting.

            Alois dropped his forehead back to his knees, refusing to let himself look at Soma anymore, or else he knew he would take it back. He wanted to take it back. He wanted Soma to reach out to him again. He wanted another chance to do it all over.

            _Please._

            But Soma didn't try again. Without another word, he stood up and left the room, closing the bedroom door quietly behind him.

            _Please, help me._

 

 

Who was Claude Faustus, Jim wondered, and why did he have the staff of the care home so spooked? Not for the first time since the man's arrival, the manager flinched, head hung and eyes trained on the floor.

            It gave Jim a rush of satisfaction. That was a stance all too familiar to him. He hoped the manager's back would have that dreadful ache too.

            'So I'm to understand that the two of you aren't biological brothers?' Claude asked.

            The three were sat around a small, round table. There was a plate of french fancies in the middle that the two boys eyed hungrily. They each had an empty cup before them. It was a set-up that not even Trancy was given on his visits. For all his money, he was lucky to get so much as an ironed table cloth.

            'Still brothers though,' Jim replied, somewhat defensively. Every word out of his mouth had a barbed edge. It was intentional this time.

            'I don't doubt it.' Claude nodded, turning to face Luka. 'They're not just for display. Help yourselves. I don't much care for sweet things myself.'

            Luka's face lit up and his hand flew towards the plate. Jim snatched his wrist before he could take anything, earning himself a confused pout.

            'No, thanks. We're not supposed to take food off strangers.'

            'Jim, we always ta ---'

            ' _No, thank you.'_

            Luka withered beneath the glare, folding his arms across his chest and looking away from Jim. Jim would be paying for that for days. Still, anything could be in those cakes. The way the manager was acting, the way every single person was licking Claude's boots; there was something dangerous behind that amiable demeanour, Jim could tell.

            Claude stared for a long moment. Jim met the look, putting every ounce of the mistrust he felt into it. Claude was the first to look away, with a small nod, and then he reached over to pick up one of the french fancies. Despite what he had said, he took a large bite out of it, made a show of swallowing.

            'Suit yourself,' he said, voice absent of any feeling.

            Still, Jim didn't let himself be fooled, even when Luka gave him a none-too-gentle kick in the shin. The cakes sat untouched and remained that way throughout the meeting. The conversation moved on regardless.

            'So what of your education?' Claude asked, wiping his already clean fingers on his napkin. 'I'm told neither of you attend a school. Do tutors come here, then?'

            'Nope,' Luka chimed in before Jim could speak, 'We do some numbers on Wednesdays. And sometimes they give us books to read and ask questions about them. But I don't think that counts.'

            'We're not allowed to go to school,' Jim said, 'It'd be a problem for them if people asked questions when we suddenly stopped going. Or heaven forbid, one of us _say_ something we shouldn't.'

            The manager suddenly looked up, face very red. He opened his mouth, every trembling inch of him making it clear it wasn't going to be an appropriate volume, but he was pre-emptively silenced when Claude held up his hand.

            'Go fetch the kettle. We're ready for tea.'

            The manager almost seemed ready to argue. Jim wanted him to. That, at least, would be normal. It was frightening to see the manager bite his tongue, slink away and do as he was told. It made Claude all the more threatening. Jim wanted to take Luka's hand and run, as far as they could get from a man who could make the manager, the man of their nightmares, seem so small.

            'It's like they don't want you to know.' Jim pushed down any hesitance. He wouldn't let himself be like the manager in front of this man. He wouldn't cower. 'As if you don't know what this place is.'

            'They like to put on a show,' Claude agreed, unapologetic in his own admittance, 'But I don't much care for feigned ignorance. That man's a pest. Has he struck you since I was last here?'

            The change of topic knocked Jim off balance for a moment, but he quickly regained his step.

            'No, though I can tell he _really_ wants to.' Jim grinned, a wicked thing. 'I never realized he knew how to not hit people before now. You learn something new every day.'

            Claude nodded, looked to Luka, 'And you?'

            Luka just looked baffled. Even though Jim had filled him in on his encounter that day, most of it had gone over Luka's head. He was mostly confused about why they were meeting with someone new when their deal was already being struck. Still, he knew how to be with the guests, so he smiled politely and denied any violence.

            'He's lying,' Jim cut in, 'He hits him all the time.'

            Jim grabbed Luka's wrist under the table, digging his nails in a little when Luka went to object. It wasn't _technically_ untrue. It just wasn't true recently. The manager hadn't bothered Jim, and Luka by extension, since Claude's warning during his last visit. But Jim stopped Luka saying anything, curious at the glint of _something_ in Claude's eyes.

            It was almost an emotion, the first time Jim was seeing anything but blankness from the man.

            The manager returned with the kettle, visibly fuming. He made to fill one of the cups but was once again stopped by Claude's upheld hand.

            '... Yes?' the manager asked, confused.

            Claude took the kettle from him, pouring out the tea himself.

            'Ah, I can do that,' Luka offered, flustered at being served, but Claude just asked if he would like any milk or sugar. Jim kept asking for more sugar, Claude dutifully dumping spoon after spoon into his cup, until it was more tea-flavoured sugar than the other way around.

            The manager began to skulk away.

            'Just a moment.'

            Jim couldn't sit still. He could sense something building here, a big Something about to happen. And it was going to happen because of what he had said. Claude was going to do something about what Jim had said, as though Jim's words mattered, as though his voice carried any weight at all.

            That feeling, it was what Jim imagined power felt like.

            'Put your hands out,' Claude said without inflection, nothing threatening or dark in his voice. Even so, the manager hesitated to comply, the confusion in his face changing to alarm.

            'Why?'

            Claude left his actions to be the answer. Looking Jim straight in the eye the entire time, he tipped the kettle again, pouring boiling hot tea across the manager's bare hands.

            The manager and Luka yelled at the same time. Jim wasn't sure who sounded more distressed. But the manager was definitely the one in pain, his hands already burning a nasty red, the skin shiny and swelling. He turned to leave, holding his hands up, pained tears running down his face.

            But he stopped as Claude said, 'I didn't excuse you.'

            Claude still had eyes only for Jim. It wasn't until Claude smiled back that Jim felt the smile on his own face, the satisfaction beaming from him. He couldn't stop the bubble of laughter that spilled forth, an almost hysterical stream.

            And Claude smiled, a genuine smile, happy to see Jim's happiness.

            But neither the manager nor Luka shared their mirth. The manager choked out a _please!_ Luka looked ready to cry, staring at the manager's burned hands with sympathy. He jumped to his feet, the chair rocking unsteadily on its back legs.

            'May we please be excused?' Luka asked politely, not forgetting his manners for a minute, but he ran over to the manager before Claude said anything. Careful not to touch his hands, Luka pulled the manager away, out of the room and towards the kitchens.

            'Aren't you going to follow him?' Claude asked, setting the kettle back on the table. Completely unflustered by it all, he took a sip of his drink, wrinkling his nose at the taste. 'Feel free to.'

            A part of Jim wanted to. But the part that wanted to understand was much stronger.

            'Why do you want us to like you?' he asked, still a hint of laughter clinging to him. It shouldn't have been funny. It should have made him afraid. But karma had never existed in his life before and he wasn't going to deprive himself of the pleasure it brought him now.

            'Not _us,_ you.' Claude spooned three lumps of sugar into his cup, stirred it until it had dissolved completely, then switched it with Jim's mess of a drink. 'But the two of you are a package deal, I believe.'

            Jim hesitated. If only to delay having to respond, he took a sip of the drink. It was the perfect sweetness, taking away the bitter edge of the tea.

            'Okay. So why do you want me to like you?' Jim refused to let himself be flattered. At least, he tried to. But he couldn't stop that warmth building in his chest. That feeling of being _special._

            Claude rested his chin on his hand, taking a moment before he answered.

            'When I came here last time, it was to tell them I was no longer interested in their services. No one had particularly stood out to me on my first visit. But ... well, on my way to the office, I saw you. And you just had this _anger._ '

            Jim stayed quiet, even when Claude paused, trying to ignore how that warmth was only swelling in his chest. No one, not a single one of the other children, had managed to catch Claude's attention. No one but him.

            'All these children, they're all so dull behind the eyes. There's nothing alive about them. But you, you still have the capacity for anger, for laughter. You still have hope, don't you, Jim?'

            Jim shifted in his chair, toyed with the handle of his cup.

            'So you want me. You're not answering the question though.'

            'I want you to like me. There's no rhyme or reason. I don't make a habit of questioning my wants. If you're going to come with me, isn't it better for the both of us that you like me?' Claude said with a small shrug. It was no explanation at all. It was better than any explanation Jim could have heard.

            'So you like me ... because I'm angry.'

            Claude smiled slightly. Jim thought it looked a bit fond.

            'I like proud people, especially when their situation doesn't justify the pride,' Claude explained, 'To have attacked that man back after he attacked you, that was because of pride. None of the other children possess it, none of the adults deserve to have it, and then there's you. And so I saw you. And it became important to me, that you like me.'

            Jim felt his face heat up. _Special._ The word kept passing through his thoughts.

            When they had first spoken in the den, Jim had thought Claude's eyes were scary, but as he met them now, he thought the colour was rather interesting. A cat's eyes, yes, and all the more different for it.

            'Trancy has wanted us for ages. He's got loads of money. You won't be able to outbid him.'

            If it was the anger, the pride, the spirit that had caught Claude's interest then Jim wasn't going to let himself blush like a schoolgirl and lose that interest. He wouldn't let on just how much Claude was managing to make him sway. He'd keep that interest, the thing that made him special.

            'True. I'm not what you'd call rich. My line of employment, and my particular employers at the moment, are not what you'd call lucrative. Even so.' Claude reached out his hand. 'There's more methods than just money. Let Trancy bankrupt himself for his filthy habit. He can't stop you from disappearing.'

            Jim reached out too, slipping his hand into Claude's. Claude's hand dwarfed his as they shook.

            'Making people disappear is something of a speciality of mine.'

 

 

They were never alone anymore. Was it intentional? It had to be. Claude never did anything without fully intending to. He was being careful to never be alone with Alois anymore.

            After all this time, it shouldn't have hurt as much as it did.

            'Completely bugged out,' Grey said, balancing on the back two legs of his chair. The words were muffled through his mouthful of crisps, the party-size packet rustling loudly as he dug deep. 'Was all up in the Phantomhive kid's face. Phantomhive wasn't even saying anything. Shocking, I know. He's usually so chatty.'

            'We called out to Trancy several times as he left his place in the circle but he gave no indication that he heard us. After his outburst, he seemed to come back to himself. He looked confused. Disorientated, even,' Phipps elaborated. Alois was very aware of his presence. He was stood right behind the chair, hands on the back, only inches from Alois' shoulders.

            The implication was clear.

            'I see. Alois, what do you have to say about this?' Claude was ice. It wasn't even indifference. It was a deliberate coldness. There was no warmth to be found in him when he was near Alois, not anymore.

            'Just tell him the truth,' Luka said, leaning against Alois' knee, 'I want to see his face when you do.'

            Alois moved his leg sharply, letting Luka fall.

            He didn't say a thing.

            'Trancyyyyy, you're being asked a question,' Grey crooned, licking the salt from his fingers, 'You should at least look at someone when they speak to you. Bad manners not to.'

            'Annoying.' It was being chanted, repeated over and over as Grey spoke. Luka face was contorted, a nasty look being sent Grey's way. 'Annoying, annoying, _annoying.'_

            'He's laughing at you, Jim.'

            'He thinks it's funny.'

            'Make him stop laughing.'

            'Make it so he can never laugh again.'

            Alois scrunched his eyes shut. It didn't stop the words but at least he didn't have to see Luka's twisted face. But then, eyes shut, he didn't see the hand coming his way either. He wrenched around in the chair as he felt its touch, his arm shooting out to grab Phipps' wrist, bending it back on itself before he even realized what he was doing.

            Phipps got himself free easily. At the same time, Grey had gotten his hands around Alois' shoulders, shoving him back into the chair roughly. He left one hand at Alois' throat, pressing against his adam's apple.

            Kneeling in his own chair, Grey smiled, 'Now, now. That wasn't very nice.'

            'Hit him,' Luka implored, a desperate edge to his voice, 'Hit him back.'

            Alois' hands had curled into fists without his permission. He didn't mean to do that. Just as he didn't mean to draw his arm back, let the tension coil in his muscles, preparing to pounce. But Phipps caught his wrists before he could, squeezing them so tightly that Alois could feel the unpleasant slide of skin over bone, the grind of his knuckles being pushed too closely together.

            'Don't just sit there!' Luka was sobbing. He sounded afraid. 'Move! Hurt them before they hurt you!'

            But Alois didn't dare move. His hands felt like they were creaking _,_ Phipps squeezing them so tightly. And that hand at his throat. That look Grey was giving him, daring him to try it again. He barely let himself swallow, flinching at the way Grey's hand shifted against him when he did.

            All the while, Claude watched.

            'Kids these days just have no manners, do they, Phipps?' Grey said, faking outrage. He was no doubt more bothered by having dropped his packet of crisps on the floor than any damage done to Phipps' hand. Not that there seemed to have been any. His grip was more than strong enough.

            Alois kept perfectly still, eyes on the ground.

            'Alois. I'd like you to answer the question.'

            'Do as he says,' Luka implored, 'He'll like you again if you do as he says.'

            Alois couldn't even remember what the question had been. Luka's voice was too loud, Phipps' restraint too tight, Grey's hand too heavy at his throat. How could they expect him to focus on anything they were saying when everything was happening all at once?

            His head hurt.

            He just wanted to sleep.

            'Alois,' Claude's voice came again, softer now, 'What are you looking at?'

            Luka grinned up at him, leaning against his knee again. All at once, his tears and panic had vanished, leaving only Alois to feel its weight. And yet he wouldn't keep still. His hands kept shooting out, trying pointlessly to grab at anything within arm's reach. Alois couldn't help but stare, following the movements, if only so he didn't slip and let himself look at Claude.

            'He was doing that the other day too,' Phipps said, 'At first I thought he was staring off into space, but he was too focused for that.'

            'Oooooh, struck a nerve!' Grey leaned down to get a better look at Alois' face, at the dread now there. He couldn't have looked more ecstatic, somehow finding joy in the discovery. 'What do you think it is? What're you seeing, Trancy?'

            'Make him get out of your face,' Luka said, either unaware of or ignoring the significance of what Claude had said. Luka was too absorbed in the anger, 'He's asking for it, getting that close to you. Make him move. Make him _hurt.'_

            Alois had to bite his lip to stop himself from speaking. To tell Luka no, to spill his soul to Claude once again. The words were far too willing to leave him. He had to tie them down for now, lock them away until he could get his hands on his pen, the pen on the paper, the words abandoned to the page where they could do no harm.

            To him, or to anyone else.

            'You don't want to tell me?' Claude's voice had dropped even more, the words so heavy with disappointment, with hurt. He sounded like the old Claude then. The pre-St. Victoria's Claude.

_Don't do that, please._

Alois ground his teeth down more harshly on his bottom lip, focusing on the building warmth there. The skin purpled. A seam formed, split. The warmth cooled as a damp red streak. And the truth stayed secret.

            The conversation happened around him after that. It was as though they had forgotten he was even there. Words like hyper-aggression and delusions were thrown around too easily. The Zydrate was blamed, not the people who had given it to him, the one person in particular. He would be taken off the Zydrate, for his and the other patients' safety.

            Claude escorted Alois back to the ward alone.

            A distance was maintained between them.

            They did not walk side-by-side.

            They did not even look at each other.

            Just before the ward door buzzed open, Claude spoke, that same echo of his old self there. Or at least, Alois thought he could hear it.

            'If you change your mind about speaking to me, just tell whoever is on the ward. They'll send for me.'

            He still didn't look over at Alois. As soon as he had said his piece, he was walking away.

            Alois called after him uncertainly, 'You'll really come?'

            But Claude mustn't have heard him, swiftly disappearing around the corner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to Elisa and TheSightlessSniper for letting me know I could download copies of the fic on FFNet! i lost my copies after a laptop malfunction, hence why the story was never finished here, but problem solved~


	28. Chapter 27 (Part 2)

A deal was struck between the Trancy man and the care home. Jim and Luka became Trancys by name, their records changed, their lives uprooted. Those roots would never quite find the grounding they needed, even after they were long gone from Trancy's hands.

            Objectively, Jim was one of the luckier ones of the children sold on from the home. Compared to the others, he spent only a short time near Trancy, and the rest was spent in company he much preferred. Even so, Trancy was about as monstrous as human beings got, and cowardly just the same. He had only two desires and he used the children to satisfy both.

            Their time with him was short, but no less foul.

            Trancy's home was an echo back to the old manor houses and grand estates from years gone by. Back then, he probably would have had a title. As it was, he had enough money to take the place of a title, so he was as untouchable by authorities as any Lord would have been.

            But such a large estate meant it was only too easy for the children to hide. Even Trancy's staff, with years of familiarity of the place, struggled to find them when they disappeared.

            And disappear they did.

            Just like back at the home, every time something bad happened, every time they had to be near Trancy, every time their bodies ached in a way a child should never know, Jim and Luka would vanish. That giant house had so many rooms, so many nooks and crannies, and when they tired of searching for those, there was the garden.

            To them, it seemed more like a forest, the kind they read about in the few books they had been permitted to read. Stretches of perfect green, white paved paths edged with a myriad of blossoming colours, trees so tall they seemed to brush the sky. Even at night it didn't frighten them, as chillingly dark as it became. After all, what monsters could lurk within those trees that were any worse than the monster waiting for them back at the house?

            And on the other side of that child's forest waited Claude.

            Just as he had promised, Trancy's successful purchase of them did nothing to dissuade him. Only a day after Jim and Luka themselves had arrived, Claude located the place, found easy ways inside the grounds, showed them how to get to the other side of the trees. And without fail, every time they could escape Trancy and his staff, every time they broke through the trees, Claude was waiting there for them.

            Dependable was not a concept Jim had known before then. But with each meeting, almost every other day, Claude's presence in his life began to eclipse the cynicism, the doubt, the hatred of all who could be considered adults.

            Even Luka, wary after the tea incident, began to warm to Claude. Despite Claude's admittance that he had no interest in Luka, he was still kind, supplying a gift for Luka to match any gift he brought for Jim. Every time he saw that, the warmth that had come to life in Jim that day would swell until there was no keeping the smile from his face.

            And Claude always returned the smile, without fail.

            Those moments in the forest became the reason Jim got out of bed in the morning. They pulled him through the hours with Trancy. They calmed him after the nightmares that dragged him towards waking in a cold sweat. They gave him the strength to hold Luka when Luka needed it, even if the touch was the last thing he wanted in that moment. And when Luka made mistakes, the foolish mistakes that every child makes, the memory of those moments and the anticipation of more gave Jim the courage to take the blame, to endure the punishment, and to pull himself back together in the aftermath.

            But by the fifth month since arriving at the Trancy home, Luka's mistakes became more and more extreme. Jim had to wonder if somewhere along the way they had become intentional. Was Luka lashing out at their keepers, in full knowledge that Jim would unfailingly take the blame? It was a treacherous thought but one that niggled at him nonetheless.

            At first it was small things like stumbling into one of the expensive vases or knocking a plate of food onto the bear-skin rug Trancy was so proud of. Those _were_ accidents, Jim had no doubt. Luka was not so good an actor as to be able to fake such fright.

            As the fourth month shifted into the fifth, however, Luka's clumsiness was becoming immense. He barely seemed able to coordinate his legs anymore. He was useless at holding anything, too. Instead of asking him, it was easier to just cut out the middle man and toss the thing on the floor yourself.

            Jim's understanding could only stretch so far when, for everything Luka broke, he was the one who got a hiding for it. But he choked that growing resentment down as best as he could, hiding it under the memories of his latest meeting with Claude.

            The fear of losing Claude's interest was beginning to diminish. Jim knew now that he was no passing fancy. Five months of meetings, of conversations and kindness, all while expecting nothing in return. Claude was someone to be trusted, Jim could let himself believe that. Claude had earned at least that much.

            And sometime then, during that fifth month, the scales of Jim's heart tipped. One beating too many, another of Luka's mistakes, and the weight shifted as the resentment he had done so well to not let himself feel began to swell.

            Claude's presence eclipsed Luka's, without Jim being conscious of it.

            They had always gone to see Claude together, but that day, Jim was restless. He couldn't keep still as he sat in their bedroom, waiting for Luka to come back from Trancy. It was taking so much longer than usual. It was already a good hour past the time they usually went to the forest.

            Claude would wait for them, wouldn't he? But they didn't come to meet him every day. Maybe Claude would assume they weren't coming. Maybe he would leave. It had already been almost a week since Jim had last been able to see him. He might think Jim had gotten bored of him and would stop coming altogether.

            Jim bolted from the room. Without Luka's slower steps, he made it to the other end of the trees in half the time. His heart stopped for a moment when the slim stretch of grass was empty, his worst fear realized, but then he saw that retreating back.

            'Claude!'

            Claude turned, nodded a greeting, waited for Jim to reach him.

            'I'm sorry --- I tried to get away sooner, but,' Jim panted, mouth swimming and throat sore from the run.

            'Alone?' Claude looked behind him, over to the trees. No one else burst through as Jim had done. There was a pang in Jim's chest as he shook his head, but the guilt was quickly forgotten when Claude shook his car keys, 'Would you like to go for a drive?'

            Jim was surprised when the car wasn't some fancy sports thing. It was just a regular three-door car, in all its dull silver glory. Impeccable inside, of course, not a single bit of rubbish littering the seats or floor. There were a few files on the back seat, plain manila folders with a logo emblazoned on the bottom right corner.

            'What're they?' Jim asked, unable to keep the smile from his face. There was no need to fight smiling anymore. He knew Claude liked to see it.

            'I'm on leave from work for the time being, but I like to keep up to date with what's going on,' Claude replied, pulling out of the country lane carefully, the main road very busy at this time of the day.

            'Can we listen to the radio?'

            'Of course.'

            Claude kept the volume low, a comfortable hum as they talked.

            'So what is your job anyway? You've been on leave for ages. Won't you get in trouble for slacking off?'

            'Six months isn't that long when you're older,' Claude replied, 'I'm a psychiatrist at a mental health facility. Those are the files of a few of my patients. It's ... not the best for them, my being away, but it can't be helped. I'm technically still _at_ work, I'm just not working from my office.'

            Jim couldn't stop grinning. Claude was talking so much more now that they were alone than he ever did when Luka was with them. To learn more about him, to be spending time just the two of them, the memory of this day would carry Jim through whatever Trancy had up his sleeve.

           'Cool! So do you, like, do those ink blots and stuff?' That was the extent of Jim's knowledge of psychiatry. He wished he could say more, sound more knowledgeable, impress Claude with how much he knew.

            'No, I'm not a fan of the Rorschach tests. The results are unreliable even with cooperative patients, and my patients are far from cooperative.'

            Jim frowned, 'Why, don't they wanna get better?'

            For some reason, that made Claude smile.

            'I suppose not.'

             A song Jim vaguely recognised came on the radio. He sang along, blaring out the words he knew, humming along when he didn't. Beyond the window, countryside turned to town turned to city centre turned to countryside once more, until the blue of the sky began to touch the blue of the sea.

            They spoke all the while. Insignificant things. Favourite songs and colours, exactly why did Jim hate fish so much, funny anecdotes from Claude's work. Significant things too. How much time Claude had left before he had to go back to his work properly, what Jim wanted to do with his future, whether they could just keep driving and never stop.

            They did stop, pulling into a car park only yards from the beach. It was a chilly day despite the sunshine, the red flag billowing for high tide. Even so, the pier-head was bustling, families with young children, groups of friends, school trips all making the most of that rare bit of sun.

            They had come so far from Trancy's manor. How long had they been gone? The guilt resurfaced when Claude bought Jim some ice cream. Yet he couldn't be unhappy. Not today. Not when Claude was treating him like the only person in the world who mattered.

            'Are you worried about me going back to work?' Claude asked, voice low in the busy cafe. He was being cautious, but Jim didn't see any need for that. They were doing nothing wrong, after all, and no one seemed suspicious of the adult and child who bore no physical resemblance to each other. People chose not to see things like that, Jim had found.

            Jim smiled, like he had told himself he would.

            'It's okay, I understand you won't be able to come see us when you do.'

            Claude stared at him until he dropped the act.

            'I promised I'd help you disappear. Don't think I forgot about that,' Claude said, leaning on the table, 'But you can't disappear until I do. Just bear with this for a little while longer.'

            'Luka,' Jim wet his lips, lowering the ice cream cone, 'I can't leave him behind. Will you take him too?'

            'If that's what you want,' Claude replied, and Jim's heart soared.

            What he had wanted had never mattered to anyone before.

            The drive back was even better than the drive down, regardless of the impending destination. That certainty, that promise, it blasted away any of the lingering doubts Jim had held. He had only ever given those two things to Luka, but that day, Jim gave what love and trust he had left to give over to Claude.

            'I'll try to get away again soon,' Jim promised at the mouth of the trees.

            'Look after yourself,' Claude said, as he always did.

            The happiness had Jim fit to burst. He legged it back to his and Luka's bedroom, dying to tell Luka the good news. Their freedom guaranteed, their future a blank canvas for them to paint upon as they chose. He was more careless than usual, almost running right into one of Trancy's members of staff, but he got to the bedroom safely.

            Only to find it empty.

            The bed sheets were unrumpled, the drawers not left half open as they usually were after Luka rifled through them. The room was just as Jim had left it.

            His stomach fell.

            A knock at the door.

            'Mr. Trancy is asking for you.'

 

 

_They know._

_They know._

_They know._

That was the only thing Alois could think about. Luka dogged his steps as he entered the ward, muttering something of his own, or maybe he was saying the same thing. It was hard to differentiate anymore.

            _They know._

_They know._

_They know!_

'Alois?' A voice broke through the hum. Soma stood before him, blocking his way to his bedroom. He was frowning, watching him with mistrust. Could he hear those words?  How could he not? It was so loud. The fear was so loud.

            'Hey, are you okay? You're white as a sheet,' Soma said, but his voice was mocking. He was laughing at Alois. That's what the look on his face was. Not mistrust but enjoyment.

            'Leave me alone,' Alois managed to spit out, having trouble actually making his words verbal. There were so many words in his head, he didn't want to accidentally say those instead. Luka wouldn't stop chunnering away to himself either, but Alois couldn't make out what it was he was saying. When he focused, tried to hear, it just made his head throb.

            'Soma, leave it.' Joker was there now. He was glaring at Alois. It was more than mistrust.

            Hate.

            It was hate, wasn't it?

            The rest of them too. They were all stopping to stare.

            They had the same eyes as Joker. Every single one of them.

            Hate, hate, hate, hate, it was everywhere.

            Luka's muttering grew louder but no more understandable.

            Soma shrugged off Joker's hand, advancing on Alois. He backed away but there was nowhere else for him to go. All around were the other patients, circling around him, their hateful eyes at every turn.

            'Did something happen?' Soma asked, the charade of worry so thick it was laughable, 'Are you okay?'

            Soma was backing him up against the wall. There was nowhere Alois could go to escape. They had ambushed him too close to the ward door, boxed him in, must have planned to do just that. His head was swimming in the panic, in the rhythmic hum of Luka's chant.

            Soma reached out his hand and Alois snapped.

            'Oi!'

            'Fuckin' hell.'

            'Get off him!'

            Hands descended from every angle, the circle closing in on him even more. Soma's eyes were laughing, bulging, streaming tears of mirth as Alois pressed his thumbs in against the gristle of his throat. His bursts of air sounded like the most hysterical laughter, every choking gasp that managed to slip past Alois' fingers one more twist of the knife.

            'Shut up, just shut up!' Alois didn't realize it was him saying that until he was booted in the chest, had his own air stolen from him momentarily. Joker didn't waste any time after dislodging Alois, grabbing Soma around the shoulders with his one good arm and hauling him as far from Alois as he could manage.

            Jumbo shoved Alois back against the wall when he tried to get up, holding him there without even looking at him. The rest were swarming around Soma, fussing at him, arguing over getting the staff. The hate in their eyes only grew stronger every time they looked over at Alois.

            Alois struggled pointlessly against Jumbo, almost as breathless as Soma.

            Bedroom doors opened and the few who hadn't been in the leisure room came out to see what the noise was about. More spectators, more loathing sent Alois' way. He shrivelled under the weight of it, curling in on himself as though it wouldn't be able to touch him if only he made himself small enough.

            'No, don't ---'

            'Just leave it, mate.'

            Footsteps stopped in front of him. Soma again? The others come to attack, to punish him? Alois made himself even smaller, back straining.

            'Oi,' Ciel bent down to try to meet his eyes, 'What have I told you about playing nice?'

            Luka's muttering picked up again. Alois hadn't realized it had even stopped. It was a vicious little whisper, the hissing of a snake.

            'Smile, c'mon, leave him alone,' Joker had come back over, had placed his foot between Ciel and Alois. He was tensed up, ready to get in the middle again if he needed to, 'He don't wanna talk to anyone, he's made that clear.'

            'No, he doesn't want to talk to Soma or you, that's all he's made clear,' Ciel replied, not even bothering to look up at Joker. He wasn't going to touch him, Alois realised, but he was close enough to Alois that he could feel his breath. Ciel never got that close, or at least, he never used to.

            'Soma's fine, you just spooked him a bit,' Ciel raised his voice a bit, 'Isn't that right, Soma?'

            Soma called over, voice gravelly, 'Yeah!'

            Alois couldn't hear any anger but he knew it was there. Soma just wouldn't show it in front of Ciel. He'd always been good at playing nice in front of Ciel, so that Alois always looked like the bad guy.

            Luka's muttering took it up a notch in volume. His words were becoming clearer. They were the same as before, the same thing he had been saying before Alois attacked Soma.

            'See, no need to worry ---'

            'No need to worry?! He fuckin' attacked him! Soma was just tryin' to be nice!' Was that Dagger? There was undeniable anger there. Hostility. The potential to attack. Alois pulled his knees in closer. He couldn't become small enough to be safe no matter how hard he tried.

            Ciel ignored Dagger, inching lower to try and see Alois' face between his limbs.

            'Jim?' When was the last time anyone had called him that? Ciel never used that name unless things were really bad. Oh god, he'd fucked up. Why was Ciel even talking to him? They didn't talk anymore, not since Ciel had gotten what he wanted, had stolen Claude away once and for all. Why was he trying to play friends now?

            Luka's hiss intensified, _'Hit him!'_

            No, that's not what he was saying. That can't have been what he was saying when he made Alois attack Soma. Alois wouldn't have gone for the throat, if it had been.

            'Jim, it's alright,' Ciel dropped his voice low, so low even Joker would struggle to hear it. Jumbo's hands fell away from Alois' shoulders, presumably at Ciel's behest, 'Look, I'm sorry I haven't been around lately, things got ... Let's go into your room. I'll listen to whatever you have to say.'

            Ciel's words began to mute, hazed out by Luka's.

            _'---- him! ---- him! ---- him!'_

Ciel and Joker both were bowled over as Alois sprung to his feet. He heard them fall, felt their hateful eyes follow him as he ran. Even as his bedroom door slammed shut behind him, Alois couldn't escape the loathing he knew they felt towards him.

 

 

People always said that the soul wasn't a physical thing. That it was a concept, a sort of personification of a person's humanity, the essence of their being. It couldn't be harmed, not in a literal sense.

            Jim knew differently now. The soul could be hurt. It could be sanded down by the rough edge of hope. It could be chipped away by dishonest promises and the emptiness of Luka's bed.

            'Consider this punishment for always hiding,' Trancy had said, 'When you've learnt to behave, I'll allow Luka to come back.'

            Alois couldn't remember whether Jim had ever believed Trancy's words. He had never been stupid. Reckless, yes, and stubborn with it, but never truly stupid. A part of him had known as soon as Luka's bed had been empty and the knock had came at the door, but it was too much. The reality of what that empty bed meant was too huge a thing for Jim to acknowledge.

            So he obeyed.

            No more visits with Claude. No more running and hiding. Only two places existed in Jim's life after that day; Trancy's bedroom and his own. His days consisted of traipsing between the two, of putting aside whatever dignity Claude had helped him recover, and doing as he was told.

            The memory of that drive with Claude did nothing to make it easier. The guilt was too strong. What would have happened if he had just waited for Luka, like he should have done? Things would have been different. No, not just different, but better.

            Jim abandoned his own bed and began sleeping in Luka's. He wished they had been allowed things, even the smallest trinket, so he could have something of Luka with him. The barest hint of his smell was gone by the first morning.

            After a while, maybe a month, maybe more, Jim's guilt began to sour. There was only so long something could fester.

            'I want to see Luka,' Jim said after doing what he was told, hoping a tired Trancy would be a more agreeable Trancy.

            'Not yet,' Trancy had said, dismissing him with a wave of his hand.

            Jim had skulked away. Far from being discouraged, the refusal only made him more determined.

            The next day, the same exchange.

            'I want to see Luka.'

            'Not today.'

            The next day, the same exchange. And the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that. Trancy's refusals grew less patient, the words varying levels of annoyed. After a week and a half, Trancy's answer was a fist in the teeth. So Jim repeated the question through the blood in his mouth. The next day, Trancy didn't answer at all, pretending he hadn't heard Jim. So Jim shouted, screamed it in his ear, and was thrown through the door.

            After a fortnight of that persistent question, Trancy finally snapped.

            'If you keep on like this, you'll go the same way he did!'

            Jim paused, mouth going dry. He suddenly wanted to stop. No more pushing, no more prodding. If Trancy said anything more, the wilful ignorance that was keeping Jim going would shatter. He knew the truth, he _knew,_ but he couldn't let himself hear it. Then he wouldn't be able to pretend anymore.

            Jim went quiet. Trancy did not.

            'The both of you, _ungrateful._ I take you out of that place, I give you beds and food and a roof over your head, and you give me nothing but trouble in return. That little brat couldn't do a single thing right, and you're no better.'

            Jim's stomach began to twist, that watery clench he knew only too well. He clamped his hand down over his mouth. It wasn't nausea, though. That became clear as Trancy kept talking.

            'It was your fault anyway. Wouldn't have happened if you'd have been where you were supposed to. And the brat just wouldn't tell us where you were. I'm a patient man but even I have my limits. He should have known better than to disobey me.'

            Jim's mind betrayed him, running wild with the possibilities. Luka was only small. It wouldn't have taken much. A badly aimed shove into a table corner, maybe. There were so many heavy things in the room too. That thick-based lamp at the bedside, that heavy metal tray or even that steel teapot sat upon it. All of them could have been within Trancy's reach. And Luka wouldn't have even thought of running, of disobeying so outwardly.

            Jim's hands shook, heat rising to his face.

            'Made a mess of my rug too. Between the money getting the two of you and how much it cost me to get the rug replaced, I'm out a fortune! Neither of you were worth a goddamn penny of it, let me te ---'

            The end of that sentence was lost in the wet snap of Trancy's jaw fracturing, a spray of spit and blood and even a couple of teeth following the path of the steel teapot. Trancy crashed to the floor with a high moan, the bottom half of his face twisted unnaturally.

            His ruined mouth quivered as he tried to shout for his staff, for help. But it was quickly silenced as the teapot was brought down again upon the crown of his head. Again, and again, and again until the top of his head was a mess of blood and hair and clumps of flesh.

            Jim didn't stop smashing the teapot into his head until Trancy's body had gone completely still.

            Everything was quiet, especially in Jim's head. When he saw the pool of Trancy's blood spread to the replacement rug, a little laugh escaped him. He laughed harder, the teapot falling from his bloodied hands, so hard that his stomach ached and his throat was sore. He laughed until tears streamed from his eyes, until he realised that the laughter was actually screaming.

            There were footsteps thundering down the hallway. With a calm he didn't feel, Jim moved to wait by the door. When it opened and two of Trancy's staff members ran in, he slipped past them.

            _Luka --_ 'It was your fault anyway' -- _I'm sorry_ \-- 'Wouldn't have happened if you'd have been where you were supposed to be' -- _I'm so sorry._

Jim didn't realise he had even had a destination until he got there, bursting through the last of the trees into that secret stretch of garden. Even though it had been ridiculous to expect it, his heart still fell when Claude wasn't there.

            Of course he wasn't. He had probably stopped coming when Jim had stopped turning up. It had been a month now, maybe two. There was no way he was still coming there, waiting there.

            All at once, Jim's energy abandoned him. He fell to the floor. He was shaking all over, wet with sweat and tears and Trancy's blood. The grass was cool beneath him and he pushed down into it, curling up as small as he could go.

            _Luka, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, it's all my fault._

_Everything's my fault._

_Please come back._

_Please._

_Don't leave me all alone._

The sky was dark when he felt a hand touch his shoulder and shake him awake. He hadn't meant to fall asleep. The grogginess had him looking around blearily, what had happened temporarily forgotten. The blood on him had dried, left his skin feeling tight.

            'Is it yours?' Claude asked, getting his hands under Jim's arms and hefting him upright.

            Jim couldn't understand the question yet. He looked around himself, blinking and confused, unsure why he was there. The only thing he knew was that he shouldn't have been. Trancy didn't allow him to leave the manor. Jim didn't allow himself to leave the manor. Yet there he was, with the one person he didn't allow himself to see anymore.

            'Why're you here?' Jim asked. The words felt clumsy as they fell from his mouth. Malformed and mispronounced. God, he was tired. Luka's bed stole more sleep than it gave.

            Claude just stared, ignored the question to repeat his own.

            'Is what mine?'

            'I'll take that as a no then.'

            Even without the exhaustion, Jim still wouldn't have been able to follow what was going on. It was like he was hearing only half of the conversation. Adults were always like that, saying only a fraction of what they meant. Claude wasn't usually like that though. He always made sure Jim understood.

            Jim began to ask his question again when he felt the uncomfortable tightness pinching at his hands. The exhaustion began to fade, stripped away bit by bit as he looked down at himself.

            So much red. The bad kind of red.

            'It's alright, Jim.'

            Red beyond its expiration date. Red turning to rust.

            'Try to calm down.'

            New red now, as Jim clawed the rust away, before it could encase him entirely. That's what Trancy wanted, even as he went cold. To lock Jim away. They had reason to now, didn't they? What he had done, it went beyond all the childish mischief he had known before.

            Claude took his hands before he could do himself any real damage. The touch pulled him back to the garden, to Claude sat before him. Where Jim was tears and fright, he was calm, composed, somewhere high above it all.

            Jim wished he could go there too.

            'Tell me what happened,' Claude said. He was holding Jim's hands that bit too tight.

            'I didn't -- I just,' Jim swallowed hard, squeezing Claude's fingers, 'He killed Luka.'

            That was all he could say. It felt like an excuse. Not a day gone by and he was already trying to run away from what he'd done. Cowardly, as always. There had been nothing cowardly about the way he had beaten Trancy's head in. Oh god, he could remember the feeling of bone caving in far too vividly. The strength he had suddenly found, how easily broken Trancy had been, how quickly Trancy's blood had soaked in among the red and gold threads of his rug.

            'It's alright,' Claude said, pulling one of his hands free. The skin was blanched from Jim's grip. He cupped the back of Jim's head and pulled him forward against his chest. 'You're going to be fine, I promise.'

            Claude stroked gently through Jim's hair, nails scratching lightly against his scalp. How much of Claude's strength would it take, Jim wondered then, for his own skull to break like Trancy's had?

            'Claude,' Jim began to sob against Claude's chest, pushing to get closer, as close as he possibly could, 'Luka, he --'

            He couldn't finish the sentence. There were too many ways for it to end. It was just a constant cycle of Luka's name in his head.

            Claude murmured soothingly. Jim wasn't even sure what he was saying but just the sound of his voice was enough. The gentle fingers in his hair, the strong grip around his hand, a warm body surrounding his own. It felt safe, even though Jim didn't deserve safety.

            'Please,' the plea left him without his permission, nothing but desperation in Jim now, 'Please take me with you. Don't leave me here. Don't leave me on my own! Please!'

            Claude pulled lightly on Jim's hair. He was expecting a refusal, a rejection now that Claude knew what he was really like, what he was really capable of. Instead, he was given a kiss. Claude pressed his lips to Jim's forehead, his hand still holding the back of Jim's head.

            But it wasn't enough. It was coddling, placating. An adult trying to stop a child's tears.

            Jim lunged forward, pushing his mouth against Claude's. It was more a headbutt than a kiss, truth be told, but Jim had never learned how to be gentle in these things.

            Claude went still beneath him, utterly unresponsive. Yet he still had his hand in Jim's hair. He could have pulled him away if he wanted to. That was what Jim told himself, anyway, and pressed against him harder. It suddenly seemed the most important thing, to make Claude understand. Claude had to understand how he felt, what Jim was really offering.

            Because Claude was all he had in the world now.

            Slowly, Claude untensed. It was like a cube of ice melting in water, frigidity turning smooth. Bit by bit, he relaxed against Jim. He squeezed Jim's hand slightly. He began stroking his hair again. And after a heartbreaking hesitation, he returned the kiss.

            It was Claude who pulled away, unsurprisingly. As soon as Jim had tried to deepen the kiss, it had ended. Despite it all, Claude looked unaffected. Even as he made his promise, there was no warmth in his eyes.

            'Alright. I'll take you somewhere safe.'

            Unfortunately, it would be a while before Alois would look back and realise that.

 

 

'It's the only way.'

            He couldn't feel Luka's hands on his knees, even though he could see them there. They clenched into claws but still there was no sensation of touch. He tried to remember back to the start of all this, to Luka's return. They had hugged, they had held hands, they had slept huddled up beside each other. But had Alois ever actually _felt_ Luka's presence?

            'It's the only way to make things how they used to be.'

            Had Alois been imagining that warmth all this time? It had seemed so real. He wasn't so far gone as to not know that Luka was only there to him. He knew _that_. But now it was like Luka wasn't truly there, even to him. To not feel those nails digging into the thick of his thigh. It made his stomach jerk like a sleep kick.

            'You don't have to feel bad about it anymore. He was the one who left you first, as soon as he got what he wanted. So it's only fair to do whatever you have to do, to take back what's rightfully yours.'

            Alois clamped his hands down over his ears. There was no ambiguity anymore. Luka's demand was ringing loud and clear in his head.

            'He likes games, after all. Alls it'll mean is that he lost this one. And you don't start playing games like this if you're not prepared to lose, Jim. Don't you think?'

            The more he heard, the more reasonable it began to sound. No, not reasonable. That wasn't the right word. Rather, _fair._

            'There's only two kinds of people in the world, Jim. People who steal, and people who're stolen from. Which one are you gonna be?'

            It all went back to Ciel. Somewhere along the way, without Alois noticing at all, Ciel's name had stopped being synonymous with _friend._ When Claude stopped being devoted entirely to him? No, not even then. Alois was content with even a fraction of Claude's attention. For years, he had survived on the scraps of love Claude had deigned to toss his way. It was after that, long after that.

            If Ciel wasn't a friend anymore, then --

            '-- he's the enemy!'

            Alois jumped, looking down at Luka. Luka's face couldn't seem to decide between a smile or a glare. The result was disturbing, but he couldn't look away for some reason.

            Experimentally, Alois opened his mouth. Luka mimicked him.

            A cold lick of dread spreading through him, Alois spoke. At the exact same moment that the words left his mouth, Luka spoke too, saying the exact same thing. Perfect unison, something almost harmonious about it.

            Before long, Alois lost control of their words.

            The roles switched. He became Luka's puppet instead.

            'It's Ciel's fault. He wants everything, everyone. It's how he plays. But that's not fair. Claude is all I have. He found us, loved us, took us away from that place. Without him, I'm nothing.'

            'Ciel can't have him. He already has everyone else. Why does he need Claude too?'

            'Take Claude back. We just need to take Claude back and then everything will be alright again. Without Ciel, Claude will love me again.'

            'We just need to --'

            Alois bit his tongue, keening at the pain, at the words he had to stop.

            It wasn't safe in here. It wasn't safe to be alone with Luka. The room was full of bad thoughts, bad things. They made him bad too.

            Away.

            He had to get away from them.

            Alois pushed up off the floor, his back sliding against the wall to support him. Was Luka gone? He couldn't see him right now. Was that a good or bad thing? It was impossible to tell anymore. In this room, everything was bad.

            He had no concept of how much time had passed while in his bedroom. On the ward, it was relatively empty. It was unusual for everybody to be in their bedrooms during the day. Was it curfew already? But his bedroom door was still open.

            Alois couldn't make sense of it. Couldn't make sense of anything anymore.

            He stumbled against the closed door. His hands were shaking too much to do any more than fumble at the handle.

            Footsteps inside. The handle turned beneath his fingers.

            No greeting, no explanation. Alois stumbled forward against Ciel, hiding his face against his shoulder. It hurt to bend his neck that far. Had Ciel always been this much smaller than him?

            Ciel was still as stone.

            Alois waited for the biting remark, the rejecting shove, the cool hard stare.

            Hands moved to rest on his shaking shoulders. Far from pushing him away, Ciel gripped Alois tightly, even as he put a bit of distance between their bodies. That was for his own comfort, Alois knew, not a rejection in the least. He let Alois keep his head there, held onto his shoulders tightly, and remained still and silent.

            Only when the warning beep of the curfew lock came did Ciel disturb him, guiding him inside his bedroom. The door swung shut and the lock clicked into place.

            'Why is it locked?' Alois asked. The silence of the bedroom was so much louder than in the leisure room.

            Ciel shifted his feet. He looked more awkward than Alois could remember seeing him in a long time. Because of him, because he was here, invading Ciel's safe place.

            'Some of the other patients complained about special treatment,' Ciel replied a beat too late, looking a stranger in his own space, 'Staff decided it was only fair.'

            'Oh.'

            They stood at the mouth of the room, a space apart. Compared to how close they were moments ago, Alois felt cold, but now that they had spoke, it felt impossible to close the gaping distance between them.

            Ciel blew air out of his noise.

            'Can I asked what happened with you and Soma before?'

            Alois shook his head rapidly, looking down at the floor.

            'Ok. Can I ask why you shouted at me the other day in the group session?'

            Again, Alois shook his head, fisting his hands in the fabric of his pants.

            'Then ... can I ask you what's wrong?'

            There weren't enough words left in him to answer that question. So he shook his head again. The exasperation would come now, he knew. Ciel's reserve of patience was never plentiful, especially not with him. A comment sharp enough to cut him to ribbons, and he wouldn't even be able to leave, not now that Ciel's door locked.

            Ciel stepped towards him and, after a fumbling hesitation, patted him awkwardly on the shoulder.

            'That's ... fine.' Alois looked up to see his face. Ciel looked far beyond his comfort zone, that attempt at an encouraging smile turning out as an uncomfortable grimace. He seemed to realise how badly he was doing and promptly gave up, storming over to his bed, cheeks flushed self-consciously. 'If you change your mind, just talk. Looks like you're staying the night anyway.'

 

 

By the time Claude made good on his promise of somewhere safe, Jim Macken no longer existed. The few files that carried that name disappeared. As did the ones carrying the name Jim Trancy. That child, that identity, it slowly dissolved over the weeks following Trancy's death, until no trace could be found.

            Not that anyone was looking.

            The new name was chosen at random. Claude asked him who he wanted to be, and overcome with the possibilities, he had picked up a book, closed his eyes and pointed.

            Alois.

            Claude had given him a vacant smile, told him it was a nice name, then went back to filling in the endless paperwork that seemed to come part and parcel with giving Alois a new life.

            All of Claude's smiles were vacant now. Alois shrugged it off as stress.

            The interlude had him in a Travel Lodge. It had been disappointing at first, some part of him assuming Claude would take him to his own home, but that was short lived. As small and economic as the room was, it was clean, comfortable, and that large metal lock on the door was the most beautiful sight Alois had ever seen.

            There was a T.V and a private little bathroom and a queen size bed all to himself. Claude brought him a few books -- he pretended to have enjoyed them, but found them too dull to get beyond even the first few pages -- and a handful of films -- he didn't have to pretend to enjoy those -- and even stayed for a few nights.

            Nothing happened those nights, despite Alois' certainty. Even though he knew he should have been disappointed, there was nothing but relief when Claude kept to his own side of the bed. That relief encouraged him, had him crossing the invisible line himself to curl up closer. And nothing more.

            Looking back, there were signs he knew he should have seen. All that paperwork for Alois, all in the same manila file Claude said was from work. The impossibility of coincidence, of Claude miraculously appearing the night Trancy died, somehow knowing. The lilac-eyed woman, seemingly always working a shift at the Travel Lodge, always tending to Alois' room, without a single day off.

            None of it clicked. He had no reason to suspect a thing.

            'You'll be there too, right?' was all Alois had to say when Claude finally told him just where it was they were going. He had been so stupid, to just accept it, to not even consider the implications of what was happening. That single-minded fixation blinded him to what it meant to be going to St. Victoria's Institute.

            'Of course,' Claude replied with that same vacant smile, 'This way, we can stay together.'

            And that had been all Alois needed to hear. Being checked in, meeting the other staff members, undergoing numerous interviews, and then finally being taken to the ward. He had accepted it all, bolstered by Claude's promise, the electronic lock of the ward door nothing but a comfort.

            But then the ward door had shut.

            Claude was on the wrong side of it.

            _No,_ Alois had thought, the realisation dawning as he heard the mechanical lock slide into place, _Don't leave me here._

Back then, the patients had been different. The first one who approached him was a stern older boy with glasses, who went off on a seemingly endless stream of rules they all must abide by before he even bothered to give his name. Three other patients soon joined his side, about the same age, all towering over Alois, telling him what he must and mustn't do.

           Some other patients approached him. A blond boy with a bad attitude, all fake smiles and fake friendship. He only lingered for as long as the elder boys were watching, then the smiles turned to snarls, and Alois cringed away.

            Other patients just watched from a distance. Drocell and Snake, even more self-isolating back then, eyed him mistrustfully from the corner. The feel of their stares had his skin crawling. A little dark-haired girl with ruined feet, two fair-haired brothers that it hurt Alois to even acknowledge, an older Indian woman who lashed out at anyone walking close to her.

            Alois kept his distance from them all. He shouldn't have been there. They were mental patients, dangerous, a hazard to everyone. How could Claude have just dumped him in there? How could he just throw him to the wolves like this?

            No, it wasn't like that. It was to keep him safe, safe from Trancy's staff who knew his face, safe from the home who always reclaimed available goods. It was only going to be temporary. And then Claude would keep his promise. Someplace safe, someplace together.

            It was three weeks before Alois saw Claude again.

            By that time, Alois had made himself more enemies than friends. The nasty blond boy had gotten on his last nerve and been punched in the side of the head. That was a violation of the rules -- _never harm one of our own --_ so those four older boys had it out for him too. All the others turned away, ignored him entirely.

            Alois had never been more alone.

            When Claude entered the ward one morning, Alois' heart soared. The hate of the other patients and his fear of the place disappeared instantly. He bounded over to him, face split in a grin, grabbing on to Claude's arm.

            'Hello,' Claude greeted, with the same vacant smile, 'How have you settled in?'

            Before Alois could answer, Claude looked away, gesturing to the member of staff on the ward. Obediently, the man trudged over.

            'Has he left his room at all yet?' Claude asked. There was no elaboration, the topic obviously already familiar between the two of them.

            'Nah, not once,' Ronald replied with a shrug, 'Gave him a knock before but, nope, _nadda_.'

            'Go try again,' Claude ordered, something frosty in his voice. The way he was speaking to Ronald, it reminded Alois of the time with the care home manager, 'And if he doesn't answer, then open the door. Don't go in, just open it and leave.'

            'Yessir.' Ronald gave a mock salute, not even waiting until he was fully turned around before rolling his eyes. There was no love lost there, clearly.

            Alois became aware of the stares he was getting. The other patients were watching him, watching the way he held onto Claude's arm. It only made him cling tighter.

            'Where've you been?' Alois asked, voice low.

            Claude blinked, as though confused by the question.

            'Here.'

            'Yeah, I know that, but --'

            Across the room, Ronald had received no answer when knocking on one of the bedroom doors. Looking back over at Claude, he shrugged, then pushed the door open. A voice yelled out in anger, not that Ronald paid it any mind, already walking away.

            'Excuse me,' Claude said, prying Alois' fingers off his arm.

            Alois stared at his retreating back, somehow winded. What was going on?

            Claude stopped outside the open bedroom, not stepping in. Alois' feet followed instinctively, stopping close enough to hear but far enough not to be noticed.

            The room was brightly lit, the full light on, and inside was generously decorated compared to Alois' own room. There was a bookcase with piles of paperbacks on and around it. Puzzle games and other small toys littered the floor. The bed had a brightly coloured blanket as well as the standard one. The window, high above the bed, had no bars on it and was framed by curtains. There was even a desk, upon which notebooks and even a pencil sat.

            And upon the bed sat a boy Alois had never seen before, not once in the three weeks he had been there. The same age as him, or possibly even younger, with messy dark hair and fierce eyes.

            'What?!' the boy snapped, glaring over at Claude.

            'It's been a month now since you left your room. It's getting a bit excessive, don't you think?' Although the words should have been sharp, Claude's voice was soft, gentle even.

            It made something twist in Alois' stomach.

            When was the last time he had spoken so gently to him?

            'You lot are the experts on excessive,' the boy bit back, not remotely moved by the warmth in Claude's eyes.

            Claude changed tactics, leaning his shoulder against the doorway.

            'Why exactly won't you come out? Just for a little while. A change of scenery.'

            'Oh _yes_ ,' the boy crooned, 'Why stare at these four walls when there's _another_ perfectly good four walls out there for me to bash my head against?'

            Alois felt his face heat up. Claude was showing the boy such consideration, such kindness. And he just kept throwing it back like it was nothing. Like _Claude_ was nothing.

            'We both know you're a bit too fond of yourself to do something like that,' Claude replied, unruffled. If anything, he seemed to find it funny. There was the beginnings of a smile ghosting at his lips, more genuine than anything he had sent Alois' way in months.

            The boy didn't dispute that, shrugging. He seemed to consider the conversation over, picking up a Rubik's cube lying on the floor beside his bed and twisting it between his hands.

            Alois' anger grew.

            Claude was still stood there, expectant. And the boy was full on _ignoring_ him!

            But worse still, Claude _didn't leave._ Why was Claude still standing there, watching, waiting? Why didn't he turn away from the boy and talk to Alois instead, the person who actually wanted to talk to him, wanted to have those same gentle eyes turned towards him?

            Why wouldn't Claude look at him?

            'So am I safe in assuming that this is about your friend?'

            The boy's hands stilled on the toy.

            'What friend?' he said after a telling pause, 'I don't have friends.'

            'Fellow patient, then,' Claude amended, 'The Kadar boy.'

            Rather than deny any association, the boy looked over again, smiling sardonically.

            'It's been a month now. Getting a bit excessive, don't you think?'

            Alois lost the thread of what they were talking about, having never heard of any Kadar, but that smug little smirk on the boy's face had him curling his hands into fists. He looked so ... _superior._ It was making Alois sick to the stomach.

            'I can only apologise for his absence, but you have to understand, what Kadar has done is beyond perm --'

            'Soma wouldn't hurt a fly and you know it,' the boy cut across, eyes flashing with anger. For all that he said he didn't have friends, his eyes betrayed him.

            'Kadar was the only one there, Ciel,' Claude insisted gently, the name emphasised, 'And we can't just ignore what he's done.'

            The boy, Ciel, threw his legs over the side of the bed, finally facing Claude properly. The toy was held tightly in one fist.

            'He didn't.'

            'He confessed.'

            'A confession given to _you_ means nothing,' Ciel snarled, more than anger in his voice. 'And when he comes ba --'

            'If.'

            Ciel gritted his teeth, launching the toy across the room. His aim couldn't have been poorer, the thing rattling along the floor a good few steps from where Claude was standing, but the intent to hit Claude, to _hurt_ Claude, pushed Alois over the edge.

            Alois didn't remember moving. That haze of red had descended over his eyes again, just like that night with Trancy, and the next thing Alois knew, his fingers were wet and warm. Ciel screamed beneath him, an agonized yell, struggling weakly to dislodge him.

            Even before Claude shouted out, a panicked cry of Ciel's name, regret had already wiped away all the anger in Alois. Two fingers buried in Ciel's right eye, he came back to himself, horrified.

            This was different than Trancy. Trancy was a loathsome man, who had murdered his brother and then mocked him about it. What Alois had done to him, he had deserved. But this boy? What was his crime? A bad attitude and even worse aim?

            _Oh god,_ that was all Alois could think, even as Claude grabbed him off Ciel and threw him to the floor, _Oh god._

            Chaos descended.

            The other patients had come at Ciel's cry, watched with disgust as Ciel was carried from the room, his breathing ragged and his face dripping with blood. Staff arrived like a swarm, trying to bring order, but only making things worse. No one knew what to do with him, Alois realised, Ciel's blood cooling on his fingers. All they could do was stare, keep their distance, close him in Ciel's bedroom until a decision was reached.

            Hours passed. He didn't move. All he could think was that maybe Claude had been right to bring him here. What he was capable of, it made him dangerous, a hazard to everyone around him. Had Claude seen that? Was it not for their promise that Claude had brought him here?

            When the door opened and Claude was there, Alois' relief was short-lived. Blood on his shirt and nothing in his eyes, he gestured for two identical men to take hold of him. Carrying an arm each, they lifted Alois to his feet and practically dragged him from Ciel's room, through the ward door and along endless identical corridors.

            Claude walked a distance ahead, leading the way.

            Everything Alois called out to him went ignored.

            'I'm sorry.'

            'Is he ok?'

            'Please look at me.'

            'Where are we going?'

            'Don't hate me.'

            They finally reached a room, the only door at the end of an endless hallway. Claude waited for the three of them to reach him before he unlocked it, letting the heavy iron door swing open.

            Claude wouldn't look at him, not even as the two men shoved him through the doorway. The floor was glass, sending him sprawling with a harsh thump, but still Claude wouldn't look his way. Alois cried out to him, crawled forward as the door began to shut, beginning to cry.

            'Claude! Please, don't leave me here! Please! You promised!'

            Claude didn't look back at him, letting the door close on Alois with a final click.

 

Ciel breathed deeply, eye patch twisted out of place against the pillow. It was a tidy scar, at least. If you ignored the shiny pink welts running where the eyelids met, that was.

            There had been talk of a prosthesis at first. The damage Alois had done had been stitched up in preparation, leaving Ciel with his ruined eye sown closed, the stitches stark black against his skin.

            The damage wouldn't have been as bad - or at least, it would have been _cleaner_ \- if Alois hadn't caught Ciel just as he blinked. It hadn't just been the flesh of his eye, but also his eyelids that had been savaged by Alois' attack.

            So much talk of a prosthesis, but left for so long that the flesh had healed over. By the time the stitches were removed, they would have had to cut Ciel's eyelids apart fresh to give him the illusion of having two eyes.

            Alois stared at the scar, so rarely left on display. He couldn't picture Ciel without the eye patch now, but the fact was that he had lived the majority of his life without it. Thirteen years before he had ever known Alois, before that monstrous mutilation borne of petty jealousy. Why Ciel had found it in him to befriend Alois after that, he had never understood.

            'For Claude,' Luka answered, perched on the edge of Ciel's bed.

            Alois squeezed his eyes shut, tense all over.

            _He already had Claude, even then._

            The answer may have been unspoken, but Luka heard and responded seamlessly.

            'Ciel likes games.'

            _Stop it._

'People are his favourite toys.'

            _You're wrong._ But was he? Ciel was good at playing people. He manipulated them with ease, with _practise._ It wasn't a natural talent. It was one he had developed. Because he liked it. Because Luka was right.

            'Claude's his most favourite,' Luka continued, seeming to grow larger as Alois shrank down in his seat, 'Carrot and stick. Hot and cold. That's the only time Claude comes to me. When Ciel is pretending to be bored or angry with him. And then he gets jealous 'coz Claude is giving _me_ attention instead. So he reels him back in. Over and over and over.'

            Alois stared blankly at Ciel, sleeping peacefully, that ugly scar on show.

            'That was part of the game too,' Luka insisted heatedly, 'Claude spent all that time away from here, with _me_. He was so jealous that Claude had found someone else, had brought them back with him. Ciel couldn't stand to see Claude looking at someone else, so he made Claude angry at us, made Claude hate us!'

            Alois' hands shook with an anger he couldn't reconcile as his own. Luka's rage infected him, memories twisting, turning dark, turning bitter. Every kindness Ciel had ever shown him, subtle but far from few, mutated into double-edged and self-serving moves in a wicked game.

            _'_ \---- him! ---- him! ---- him!'

            Luka was screaming those words again, but Alois couldn't see him anymore. His voice was making the walls shake but he wasn't anywhere inside the room.

            But no, there wasn't a blank this time. This time it was loud and clear, that desperate order.

            'Kill him! Kill him! _Kill him!'_

            Ciel's breath hitched, nose wrinkling as he turned on his side, sleep disturbed slightly by Alois removing the pillow from beneath his head.

            The soft wool bunched between Alois' clenched hands.

            ' _Do it!'_

For Claude.

            _'Do it!'_

To take back what was rightfully his.

            _'Do it!'_

The only thing he had ever wanted, the only thing that had ever made him feel happy.

            ' _DO IT!'_

            The pillow hit the far wall with a dull thump. Alois' fists thundered down upon the bedroom door.

            'Let me out! Please, let me out, _let me out!'_

            Ciel jolted awake. The eye patch only slipped further out of place as he sat up, looked over to Alois with confusion and alarm.

            The scar seemed to twitch, its mangled seam of skin shifting as though the eyeball were still there, fastened away inside Ciel's skull. But watching. Seeing what Alois was doing, seeing what he had almost done.

            The pillow coming down to lie over Ciel's face, defenceless in his sleep.

            Ciel had _seen._

            'Let me out!'

            There was a flurry of activity outside of the door, the heavy thud of feet, a muffled voice.

            'Alois?' Ciel's voice seemed so small. He wasn't going to approach him, Alois realized. He just stayed on the bed, soft with lingering sleep, glancing between Alois and the pillow but refusing to make the link.

            Why did he look so sad?

            The bedroom door finally opened. Ash was red in the face, the skeleton key to override the electronic locks held tight in his hand. He allowed Alois to run past him, locking the door again.

            'Why were you in Phantomhive's room?' Ash demanded.

            'Claude.' It was hardly a word, choked out between ragged gasps. 'Claude!'

            Ash's stare was as cold and clinical as the office he kept. The minutes dragged on agonizingly slow yet it got no easier for Alois to breathe. It seemed like Ash was going to refuse, but then he strode over towards the ward door, scanning it open.

            'I'll have to wake him up. You'll wait in his office.'

            Ash left him there, locking Claude's office door behind him.

            His heart had yet to stop hammering. He could still feel the soft cotton of the pillowcase against his skin, the heavy glare of Ciel's destroyed eye.

            It was too easy to imagine how it would have felt. Ciel wasn't strong, not really. He may have had his moments, terror-driven strength all people possessed, but he wouldn't have been able to overpower Alois.

            Holding that pillow down, feeling as Ciel woke up, realized, began to struggle. Nothing left to do then but press down harder, no way to take back what he had already started, until Ciel's legs stopped kicking and the room got that ghostly silence that Trancy's bedroom had once had.

            Alois didn't feel any of the usual warning signs before he lurched forward, throwing up on Claude's carpet. He was shaking all over, sweating and cold and frightened and angry, still angry, _always_ angry.

            By the time Claude walked into the office, Alois had retreated to the corner of the wall by the door, curled up as small as he could go. The shaking just wouldn't stop, the acrid tang burning at his throat, tongue thick and heavy in his mouth.

            'What did you do?'

            Claude didn't come to him. He wasn't angry. He wasn't anything. He stood behind his desk like this was any other one-to-one therapy session. All that was missing was the clipboard.

            But his eyes, they were burning.

            'I don't want,' Alois managed between sobs, nails digging into his knees, 'I don't want to!'

            'What did you do?' He wasn't angry, but the question was unforgiving. A line had been crossed. One that Alois never realized had been drawn.

            'Don't let me do it,' Alois wailed, nails dragging back and forth on his knees until the skin was streaked with raw redness, 'I don't wanna hurt anybody, _please!'_

            Claude took a deep breath. It was the first time Alois had ever seen him have to _make_ himself stay calm. There were sides to Claude Alois _hadn't_ seen, he now realized, and hated himself for never realizing it sooner. Had Ciel seen those sides? _No,_ didn't matter, that didn't matter anymore!

            'You tried to harm Ciel, didn't you?' Claude asked, voice soft. If Alois ignored the words, that tone could have sounded almost loving. 'You tried to harm him while he slept.'

            Alois let himself nod.

            'What did you try to do?'

            When had Alois stopped crying? The tears had disappeared. His breath had returned. He had no difficultly when replying, 'I tried to smother him with a pillow, Claude.'

            Claude sat down. He wasn't dressed as usual, Alois noticed belatedly. Generic grey sweatpants and a white undershirt. They were dressed the same. They shared a uniform at night.

            Claude looked at him sharply. It took Alois a moment to realize it was because he had began to giggle.

            'Sorry.'

            Slowly, Claude stood and came over to him, carefully stepping around the puddle of sick. He didn't crouch down like he always used to, choosing to loom over Alois instead.

            Adults liked to do that, Alois knew.

            'I can't say I'm surprised,' Claude said, looking down at Alois blankly, 'This was always going to happen again eventually. I hoped I could help you change, but some people just can't be saved.'

            Claude's words ate their way through the apathy his shock had brought upon Alois. They left Claude's mouth and became spiders upon Alois' skin, burrowing their way deep, to the place Claude's kindness had been kept.

            'Sometimes, people are just born bad,' Claude continued, merciless, 'It's in their bones, in their minds, in their hearts. But those people are always clever. They always find their own justification. Excuses upon excuses so that they never have to face the consequences of the things they've done.'

            Alois looked up at Claude, that mild-mannered hatred tearing away at him. Why couldn't Claude have shouted instead? Why did this loathing come so easily to him that he was as unaffected as ever?

            'I'm partly to blame --- I believed your excuses, back then. I covered up what you did to Trancy because I thought I could help you,' Claude closed his eyes, the regret etched into every fine line of his face, 'But you're beyond help.'

            'Don't --' Alois willed his legs to move, clutching at the fabric of Claude's pants, 'Don't say that. Please. I ... I _didn't_ do it! I stopped myself!'

            Claude kicked his leg, shoving Alois off of him.

            'And you think you deserve a pat on the back for that?' Claude shook his head, 'For _not_ murdering an innocent person while they slept?'

            Alois' mouth worked silently. That wasn't what he'd meant. Claude was twisting his words.

            'Luka, Trancy, now Ciel. Look at yourself, Jim. How can you live like this?'

            Was it still indifference, or was that genuine disgust on Claude's face?

            'I di - I didn't! Trancy deserved it, and --!' Alois crumpled in on himself, unable to look Claude in the eye anymore, 'What happened to Luka wasn't my fault!'

            'Wasn't it?' Claude moved away, 'You left him all alone, and then he died. Would he have died if you had been there, Jim? Can you honestly say your choice that day didn't affect what happened to him? Are you really that blind?'

            _When?_ Alois curled in on himself, breath caught in his throat and disbelief stemming the flow of tears. _When did you start hating me like this?_ He hadn't even noticed. Had there ever been any love between them? Had it been destroyed the moment Claude had seen him drenched in Trancy's blood, seen just what Alois was capable of? All these years, had Claude felt nothing more than disgust at the sight of him?

            _Luka_.

            That day, if Alois had just stayed in the bedroom and waited, then Luka wouldn't have died. There was no two ways about it. A truth that Alois hadn't let himself acknowledge until now. Until Claude left him no other choice.

            _Luka!_

            Luka had died because of him. And then he had used Luka's name as an excuse to kill Trancy too. And now he had twisted Luka's memory as an excuse to try to kill Ciel.

            Claude was right to be disgusted at the sight of him.

            'I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I'm sorry --'

            The apologies died as Claude cupped Alois' face. In an instant, his whole demeanour had changed. He was kneeling now, eye to eye with Alois, his every look and touch gentle. In his free hand was a syringe.

            'Maybe I was wrong,' Claude wondered aloud, thumb tracing feather-light over Alois' cheek, 'Maybe you're not beyond help.'

            Alois nuzzled into Claude's hand, shaking all over.

            'Help me, please,' Alois pleaded, ' _Please.'_

            'You have to make things right, Jim,' Claude said, 'You have to do this yourself.'

            Claude pressed the syringe into Alois' hand. It was filled with a neon blue, the familiar Zydrate. But the syringe was full. It was far more than he had ever been given before.

            _Oh._

            'You understand, don't you, Jim?' Claude asked. He pressed Alois' fingers closed around the glass body of the syringe. His hands free now, he took Alois' face and lifted it to his own, their mouths a breath apart. 'This is how you make things right.'

            Alois gripped the syringe, the cool glass warming quickly. He was more focused on Claude. His breath fanned across Alois' face, his lips only inches away.

            Claude was looking at him, _only_ at him, for the first time in years.

            'Will this make things better?' Alois didn't close the distance like he had done back then. It was important that Claude be the one to do it this time. That Claude be the one to make that decisive move. 'Will -- Will it hurt?'

            Claude smiled, that same smile he used to give Alois. His hands dropped down to steer Alois'. A sleeve rolled back, the syringe positioned, Alois' finger placed over the plunger.

            'You won't feel a thing,' Claude promised, resting his forehead against Alois', 'It'll be just like going to sleep.'

            Feeling the slight push of Claude's finger over his, Alois swallowed the growing lump in his throat and pressed down on the plunger, until it could go down no further. He didn't watch the Zydrate flow into him, and neither did Claude.

            Feeling the sluggishness begin to wash over him, Jim allowed himself one last selfish act, looking into Claude's eyes.

            'You ... loved me, didn't you?'

            The haze was thickening. His eyelids were far too heavy all of a sudden. He felt himself begin to slump, fought to keep his eyes open, to stay awake long enough to hear the answer.

            Claude's fingers stroking the hair away from his face.

            Claude's warm breath brushing over his skin.

            Claude's lips pressing softly against Jim's.

            Everything became touch as the world drifted away.


	29. Chapter 28

The pocket watch had stopped working within days of Sebastian buying it. The watch had been so cheap that it would have cost more to replace the battery than it had to buy it in the first place, not that working at St. Victoria's afforded much opportunity to nip down to the city centre anyway. So almost two years later and it had long stopped ticking.

            Even so, Ciel stared at the static hands, frozen at four o'clock. The decorative swirls of the open case left indents on his skin, fingers squeezing the useless watch so tightly.

            How long had it been now? A good few hours, surely.

            Still no movements beyond the bedroom door.

            _Things are never how they seem._

            There was a pencil on the desk. Beside it, a flimsy plastic pencil sharpener. In sure hands, both were better weapons than a pillow.

            _If it had been me, I'd have broken the pencil sharpener open and used the blade._

            If Alois had looked in the drawers of the desk, his choices would have multiplied. The pocket watch itself had a long golden chain. The perfect length for wrapping around a neck. In the bottom left drawer, if Ciel recalled correctly, there was a heavy glass paperweight. Sure, bludgeoning was messy, but Alois had never seemed to mind that.

            _If he really wanted to go big, there was always the bath._

            It would have involved dragging him in there and a battle of strengths, but Ciel wasn't so confident in his brawn that he thought he could have won. That would have been mess free, at least, but then it wasn't all that different from smothering with a pillow.

            _A pillow? Really?_

            Of all the ways to try to kill him, smothering him with a pillow was really the lowest on the list of Ciel's expectations. Perhaps it was arrogant to think yourself above certain methods of murder, but it was almost insulting to think about going out that way.

            The sky was brightening through the high window. The doors were due to unlock soon, surely. Is this how the other patients had spent their nights for years, waiting to be allowed to start their days?

            _Things are never how they seem._

            How many times had he told himself that now? The panic on Alois' face as he'd fled the bedroom, the pillow abandoned across the room when it should have been beneath Ciel's head;  there were surely a hundred different scenarios that ended with that moment.

            He couldn't think of a single one right then, but he was certain they must be there.

            Exhaling heavily through his nose, Ciel let the watch drop to the floor. His knees ached from sitting cross-legged for so long, objecting sorely as he stood.

            At that moment, the beeping started up, the metallic grinding of the locks sliding out of place. It had barely settled before Ciel had flung the door open, in the leisure room like a bullet from a gun.

            He wasn't the only one.

            'What the hell was goin' on?' Freckles swept to his side, sleepless weight beneath her eyes, 'I heard the bangin'. Alois shoutin'. But it was comin' from your room. What did he do?'

            It took a moment too long before Ciel realized she was staring at his eye. He flushed, oddly embarrassed to have it seen, looking around for the eye-patch.

            'I won't look.' Slipping past him, Freckles disappeared into his blind spot, reappearing with the eye-patch. Rather than hand it over, she looped the cords behind his ears herself, only looking him in the eye when she had positioned the patch properly. She still lingered, brushing the hair back from his face. 'Ciel, what happened last night?'

            The use of his name was like missing a step on the stairs.

            Freckles had been there when Alois had attacked Soma, he recalled. She'd tried to pull him back when he'd gone over to Alois, implored him to keep a safe distance. Hearing Alois in Ciel's room after that, hearing the shouts and banging, what must she have thought?

            Ciel took a deep breath. Rather than move away from her, he reached up to take her hand.

            'Nothing ha -' Ciel stopped himself, the lie coming too easily. Honesty was always harder to find, 'I don't know. He came to my room just before curfew. He wasn't alright but he wouldn't say why. It didn't feel right to leave him alone when he was in that state, so I let him stay in my room. I dozed off. Next thing I know, he's screaming to be let out.'

            Freckles' face softened, her hand squeezing his gently. Seeing the relief there, the depth of the worry that had stolen her sleep, Ciel almost felt guilty for omitting the most important detail.

            'I don't know how we can help him, Smile,' she said, glancing over her shoulder to Alois' bedroom door, 'I don't know if we _can.'_

            'Won't know 'til we try.' He sounded more sure than he felt. Letting go of Freckles' hand, Ciel crossed the room to Alois' door. It was barely ten steps away yet those steps felt as long as the hours he had spent staring at a broken watch. Freckles was at his heels, eyeing the door warily.

            _Alois,_ Ciel thought with a clench in his chest, _you've made them scared of you._

            He twisted the door handle.

            'Eh?' Freckles peered over his shoulder, 'What's up?'

            Ciel frowned, pushing at the door.

            '...Locked.'

            Freckles reached under his arm to try the door herself, shoving at it much more forcefully. Even so, it still didn't shift.

            They looked at one another, their apprehension mirrored.

            Freckles left Ciel's side, doing a lap of the room to try the other bedrooms. She left behind a trail of ajar doors and awakened inhabitants. Joker was the first to emerge, shuffling over to them blearily, lame skeletal arm hanging low at his side without the sling.

            'What're you two doin' up so early?' He wiped dried drool away from the corners of his mouth, words lost in a yawn, 'Piss the bed or summit?'

            Freckles answered, 'We're worried about Alois. We heard him shoutin' last night. Now his door is locked. I thought maybe there was somethin' wrong with the locks, but everyone else is fine...'

            Joker squeezed his eyes shut, forcing away the lingering dregs of sleep.

            'I told ya to leave him be, doll,' Joker said, something tired about it, an argument he was sick of having, 'It's different for Smile -- they're mates -- but the kid's nothin' to you and he's dangerous. Y'saw what he did to Soma, and Soma was just tryina help him too.'

            'I wasn't gonna go in,' Freckles replied surlily, 'I'm just sayin', his door won't open. Lost cause or not, we can't ignore that.'

            Joker looked between the two of them. He seemed to know, in that odd way Joker could have sometimes, that he was missing a page from the book. Still, he didn't give voice to his obvious suspicion, gesturing them aside.

            Just like their attempts, Joker failed to open the door.

            Puzzled, he turned to check through the small windows at the curve of the roof. The sky was already losing its tie-dye glow, settling into a steady blue as light stretched the furniture into shadows.

            'Huh.' Joker didn't seem to know what to say. He was fully awake now, at least.

            Around them, the rest of the patients were rousing. Beast appeared from her bedroom, hair in untamed tangles around her shoulders. It wouldn't be long before Dagger followed suit. Snake peered out his open door, eyeing the group uncertainly.

            Everyone else was perfectly free to leave their rooms. Everyone but Alois.

            'Let's not panic, yeah?' Joker said below his breath, signalling the two closer, 'Smile, give him a yell. He's more likely to answer you.'

            False bravado aside, Joker's face had drained of colour. It was the lack of precedent. Something like this had never happened before. What it meant, what would happen, how it would inevitably turn against them somehow; he had no way of knowing.

            Ciel nodded, giving the door a sharp knock.

            'Alois, are you awake?'

            Freckles looked ready to press her ear against the door as they waited for a response. She was only inches away. If the door did open, she'd have fallen through. But there was no response. Only silence met Ciel's question, the sort of silence that answered more than words could.

            Joker grinned.

            'Well, he was never an early riser. It's Agni's shift today, if I'm rememberin' right, so we'll ask him to open the door for us.'

            'No,' Ciel tried the handle again, his stomach turning to water, 'Only the skeleton keys can override the lock system. The keycards don't work on the bedroom doors. Ash or Angela are the only ones who can do that.'

            Freckles tried to copy Joker's smile, 'Dibs not asking them.'

            'A glitch in the lock system, d'ya reckon?' Yet again, the handle was roughly shook, this time by Joker. He even kicked at the door for good measure. 'Confidence inspirin', that.'

            Soma, Dagger, Jumbo and Wendy had left their rooms now too. They were all muttering amongst themselves, alarm spiking in the air. Sensing the growing disquiet, Joker patted Ciel and Freckles each on the shoulder.

            'I'm gonna go fill them in. You two keep tryin' the door. For all we know, the problem'll fix itself, y'know?' Joker hesitated to leave, eyeing the shut door, 'If it does open, don't go in without me. After yesterday, it ain't wise for any of us to be alone with the kid.'

            Ciel and Freckles shared a look. Wordlessly, they agreed to keep what happened the night before between them. Joker didn't need any more reason to mistrust Alois.

            'Wish me luck.' Joker grimaced, walking over to the waiting group. It was difficult for their building panic not to infect Ciel. He couldn't stop himself from trying the door again, sure each time that the handle would turn completely.

            'Smile, it's really quiet in there.'

            '... He's a deep sleeper.'

            People could be so silent as they slept. Especially if they didn't snore. Especially if they didn't dream. It didn't matter that Ciel knew Alois to do both, and loudly too. Some nights were flukes. The entire night had been a fluke.

            The group's muttering had turned to an anxious buzz, even as Joker tried his best to soothe them. Ciel couldn't make out what they were saying but the noise scraped against his skin, each panicked exclamation leaving him that bit rawer.

            He shoved against the door, the force making his shoulder tingle.

            'Smile, don -'

            Again. The door trembled with the aftershock of his shoulder, but still, the handle wouldn't turn.

            'Oi!'

            Freckles grabbed him by the shoulders, trying to pull him away, but she ended up stumbling forward with him as he lurched back towards the door.

            With Ciel slamming against the door and the arguing among the rest of the patients, no one heard the tell-tale beeping. Between one slam and the next, the handle suddenly turned fully. Ciel didn't have a chance to regain his footing as the door opened, sending both him and Freckles sprawling to the floor.

            'Shit, sorry, Smile.' Freckles hurried to move, having fallen atop him, but she stilled as he grabbed her wrist. His hand trembled around her. 'Smile?'

            The air was wrong. Every breath was thick with _something_ , catching on his tongue, clinging to his throat, sitting heavy on his chest. By the time it reached his lungs, it had rotted, if air could rot.

            Ciel didn't want to look up.

            He had been in this room before. Not Alois' room, with its worn carpet and bare walls. But this room with a presence that had no right being there. The presence that you felt before you saw, like a warning light to stay away.

            Too late now. They had already opened the door.

            'Smile,' Freckles said softly, trying to shift her weight off of him without making him let go, 'He's still sleepin'. Should we leave him?'

            The presence grew larger. _Sleeping._ No one slept in Its presence.

            He couldn't make himself look up.

            'It opened?' Joker had come over, the others trailing behind him warily. It was like they thought something deadly was going to leap out at them. 'Oops, up you get.'

            Joker left Ciel no choice, hefting him up with his good arm.

            One look at his face and what little colour had returned to Joker's drained away.

            Couldn't he feel it? That looming mass, spreading to every corner of the room, leeching the very heart from them.

            'Everybody out,' Joker said flatly, staring at Ciel as though afraid to look away. Look away and he might look over to the bed, to its still sleeper. 'Now.'

            And for the first time in years, Joker's leadership failed.

            'Why wouldn't the door open?'

            'They locked him in, right? Just him, why?!'

            'What did he do?'

            'What did _they_ do?'

            _'Why isn't he waking up?'_

            Then the first scream. Ciel wasn't sure who it was. Too many of them had gone over to Alois at once for him to tell. Not that it mattered. After the first scream, there was another, and another. Breathless muttering. Someone retched. Joker shouted, a call for order, but no one listened.

            Soma was the first to cry.

            _But the line._

            Ciel still couldn't look towards the bed. His eye was fixed on Joker's arm, the tinged yellow bone, the way it swung independent of Joker's control. As though it would reach out at any moment, ruined fingers clawing ---!

            It was better than looking towards the bed.

            _The line they drew._

            This wasn't how the game was played. They had broken the rules they themselves had decided. The ward was safe, the ward was the patient's, the ward was off limits. No harm came to them on the ward. That was how it had always been.

            _They crossed their own line._

            'No, c'mon, we can't be in here when the staff arrive.' Someone was dragging at his arm. Pulling him up. When had he sat down on the floor? 'Smile, _move.'_

            Ciel looked over at the bed. Alois' back was to the room, curled up on his side. He never slept like that. He always splayed out as wide as he could, legs and arms hanging off the sides. But now he was curled up small, as though hiding.

            How much had he been hiding?

            _How much did I choose not to see?_

            Ciel shoved away the person pulling him, lumbering to his feet. The closer he got to the bed, the colder the air seemed to become, that presence leeching all heat from him. The closer he got to the bed, the more he could see, and the more he wanted to look away.

            Alois' hand rested against his side, the beds of his nails blackened.

            _We're supposed to be safe from this._

            Ciel found himself reaching out to touch Alois' hand. Purple webs waited beneath the skin, rising slowly as time went on, pale and bruise mingling together as the pervasive chill took hold.

            All the warmth in Ciel's body seemed to flee through the fingers that pressed against Alois' skin. Or maybe it was the other way around, Alois' cold infecting Ciel, destroying any hint of warmth it found.

            _We're not Ward V. We're supposed to live._

            The hand was all he could bring himself to look at. Even though the stale smell of vomit had his mind itching to find the cause -- _what would make him sick why isn't there any sick here nowhere in the room not on him but the smell is so strong fresh how long has he been here how did they do it_ \-- and the little dot of blood on the sleeve of Alois' other arm led to too many baseless assumptions. Looking closer would mean leaning over and leaning over would mean seeing the face --

            _No._

            Ciel felt pressure build at the bridge of his nose. It had suddenly become so much harder to swallow. To breathe evenly. His eye burned. A damp heat.

            _No._ _I don't -_

            The smell, the cold, the stinging warmth pushing up at his eye, the presence in the room bearing down upon him crushingly.

            Ciel's breath hitched, lips sealed tightly against the sound trying to get out. He couldn't let it. He hadn't in years. Not now, not after all that, if he started he wasn't sure he'd ever stop.

            _don't don't don't_

            He held his breath until his eyes were dry and he'd forgotten how to breathe. The familiar dragging gasps were the lesser evil, the empty lung lightheaded haze easier to solve. What had he told Sebastian when the man lay gasping on his bedroom floor?

            _Inhale, two three. Hold, four five. Exhale. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat._

            Before long, someone was pushing his inhaler against his closed lips, a hand rubbing circles into his back. The motion was not as soothing as they meant it to be, making his chest heave even worse. They must have realized they were doing more bad than good, backed off, gave him room to fix himself.

            _In, two three. Hold, four five. Out. In, two three. Hold, four five. Out. In, two three. Hold, four five. Out._

            _We're not safe anymore._

_In, two three. Hold, four five. Out. In, two three. Hold, four five. Out. In, two three. Hold, four five. Out._

_There is no line anymore._

_In, two three. Hold, four five. Out. In, two three. Hold, four five. Out. In, two three. Hold, four five. Out._

_We're as good as dead --!_

            A hand clamped Ciel's nostrils shut. Before he had a chance to panic, Soma backed off, content at having gotten his attention.

            Soma's face was tear-stained, eyes still shining, nose streaming. Despite the tears, his stare was steady, his hands sure as he pulled Ciel's off of Alois'.

            Warmth returned to Ciel's skin. For the first time he could remember, he craved the touch. When Soma tried to let go, he didn't let him, clinging to his hands. They were clammy and damp but that was better than Alois' stiff chill.

            Soma gave him a watery smile, rubbing his hands until all traces of Alois were gone and Ciel found himself breathing evenly again.

            'Do you need it?' Soma asked, nodding behind Ciel.

            Freckles knelt there, distressed and unsure, holding out the inhaler.

            It was a while before Ciel found his voice.

            'No,' he said, 'It wasn't that kind of attack.'

            Now that Ciel had calmed down some, he could hear the panic beyond the door. He couldn't quite make out what was actually being said, but Joker sounded angry above all the others. Freckles caught him looking, inched closer across the floor.

            'Drocell said we'd be better off,' she explained, hesitant to close the distance between them. Ciel inclined his head, beckoning her on. He wanted her close all of a sudden. Both of them. He couldn't explain why, even to himself. 'It started a row. Joker's been pissed with Drocell for ages. Last thing he needed was a reason to fight.'

            Drocell's mistrust of everyone besides Snake was nothing new to Ciel. Such a callous comment was poorly judged, however, even for him. Ciel wasn't one to get offended on other people's behalves yet the comment still set his teeth on edge.

            'No, we're not,' Ciel said, nails digging into Soma's hand, 'We've never been worse off.'

            Soma leaned forward, hiding his face against Ciel's shoulder. The tears had started again and he did nothing to stem the flow. At least one of them could cry for Alois. Soma could cry Ciel's share too.

            'I dont -- I don't know what to say,' Freckles admitted, voice thick. She shook her head, dark hair falling into her face. 'We weren't mates or nothin', but still. What even happens now? They won't do a funeral, he ain't got no family to come for him. How did this even happen?'

            'I can't ...' Ciel sat up straighter, trying to clear his head. He was getting lost in the situation. He couldn't let himself. That was what they wanted. 'Last night, Ash was the one who let him out of my room. But this ... this is getting your hands dirty. Ash wouldn't. He never touches us, that's not how he works. This wasn't him.'

            'You sure?' Freckles sniffed tellingly. 'Coz I wouldn't put anythin' past the lot of them.'

            'No, I'm sure, this wasn't him. He had nothing to do with Alois, not really. There's no ... reason _._ ' It was easier to talk like this, like it was a puzzle to be solved, than to acknowledge the body lay beside them. 'I couldn't hear well through the door but, knowing Alois, I'm pretty sure he'd have asked for Faustus. He was upset, frightened... He'll have wanted Faustus.'

            Soma's sobs stopped being silent, a pitiful choking noise not nearly muffled enough against Ciel's shoulder. Freckles shuffled closer, wrapping her arms around Soma, looking at Ciel over his head.

            'Not that it makes any difference knowin'. Smile,' her voice wavered, breath hitching, 'I'm scared.'

            _You should be._

_So am I._

            He couldn't bring himself to say either. Fortunately, things kicked off in the leisure room, saving him from having to say anything at all.

            'Don't!'

            'Will you the two of you just pack it in!'

            'The staff will be here in a minute!'

            Freckles took a deep breath, rubbing Soma's back as she stood.

            'I better go see if I can help diffuse _that._ I'll, um,' she swallowed, pressing her lips together as she composed herself, 'I'll give a knock when we think someone's comin' onto the ward. Don't stay in here too long, both of you, 'kay?'

            Soma nodded, wiping his nose with his sleeve. She closed the door behind her as she went, silencing the cacophony outside.

            It was somehow worse now that it was quieter. There was nothing to distract. No safer, easier place for Ciel to go. Nowhere else for him to look than at that discoloured hand.

            _Faustus._

            'It must have been,' Ciel continued, as though Freckles were still there, 'Ash had no motive, but Faustus was the entire reason Alois was in this place. Whatever he did, he didn't --'

            'Ciel.'

            '-- do here. There's no sick in here. But the smell is strong on him, so --'

            'Ciel, please.'

            '-- Faustus changed his medication a while back. Was that when he started acting strange? Everything was happening at once, I can't remember, but it probably was --'

            'Stop it.'

            '-- I _do_ remember telling him to keep notes on the change. I wonder if he ever did --!'

            ' _Stop it!'_ Ciel was shoved back to the floor as he made to stand up. Soma scowled down at him. 'Just stop it. Stop trying to _solve_ it, it's not something to be solved, _Alois_ wasn't something to be solved, okay? Just be sad. Just let us be sad while we still can because soon enough we're going to have to go back out there and pretend nothing's even happened.'

            Soma broke down once more, words lost in a cry that he made no effort to stop. To be able to let himself go like that, to not be afraid of that sort of vulnerability, Ciel couldn't comprehend it.

            'Sorry,' Ciel said, unsure what else to do. He stayed where he had fallen, ankle bent at an uncomfortable angle, looking up at Soma in his grief.

            He hadn't even liked Alois.

            The knock came a short while later.

            'Someone's coming,' Beast said briefly, slipping back through the door as quickly as she had come. There didn't seem to be any more fighting going on outside, at least.

            Soma rose from the floor slowly, 'I wonder what they'll do with him.'

            Ciel didn't have to think all that hard to know the answer.

            'They'll make him disappear.'

 

 

After spending so long desperate to get out, there was little else for Ciel to do that day than to return to his bedroom. The faster, the better. The book hidden beneath his sweatshirt wasn't as inconspicuous as he would have liked.

            After a stunted conversation with a bloody-nosed Joker, nods of acknowledgement to the others, and an awkward hug with Soma, Ciel finally escaped them all.

            _I can't read it._

            No matter how long he stared at the ruined pages, none of those scribbles became words. Lines upon lines of text had been written, every page filled to the edges, but the sentences were written on top of each other until none of them were legible.

            Looking at those pages, they only translated to static in Ciel's mind.

            A helpless sort of frustration had him throwing the much-abused journal against the wall. The pages fell free from the elastic band holding them together.

            _What now?_

            There was nothing to be done. Alois' bedroom door was firmly shut. It would stay that way until whoever was on duty today opened it, for whatever reason. All of them knew nothing, as far as the staff were concerned, and it had to stay that way. Normality had to be maintained. Normal was Ciel in his bedroom, alone and climbing the walls.

            How long would it be before someone wondered at Alois' absence? Would he be found today? Or would it be days before anyone thought to check on him?

            _How long before the smell starts?_ Ciel's empty stomach lurched, _Please let it be before then._

            He knew that smell too well. He never wanted to know it again.

            Ciel sunk down on the bed, head falling back too hard without the pillow. Any other day and he'd have slept the morning away. Sleeping would be maintaining normality, especially if anyone came barging into his room, as they were wont to do. He had barely slept that night, too.

            _I should hide the journal_.

            And he would. In a minute. In a few minutes.

 

 

'Alois?'

            The carpet flaked between Ciel's toes. The rough nylon texture turned to ash where he trod, a blackened trail of footprints. He didn't seem to notice, or if he did, he found nothing odd about it.

            'Alois.'

            The sleeping boy did not stir. Even as the sheets mouldered beneath him, as the ceiling blossomed yellow stains, as the wood of the desk and bed-frame putrefied in an instant.

            'Wake up.'

            Ciel stopped. Behind him, his ashen footprints spread like spilled ink.

            The sleeping boy did not stir. The bed collapsed, its ruined frame no longer able to carry the weight, sending the mattress to the floor. The boy rolled off. He still did not wake.

            'Hey.'

            Ciel's voice no longer sounded like his own, though he wasn't sure when the change had happened. Higher, like a child's. Scared, like a child's.

            The ash rot had reached the walls. It climbed them like ivy, splintering the paint, its shadow enveloping the room. Still, he did not notice, paying no mind to the growing chasm with him at its centre.

            He took another step forward. The place he had just stood crumbled away. Through the footprint holes, smoke began to billow up. Dirty grey smoke, the kind that choked.

            'You're not fooling anyone with this,' Ciel said with someone else's voice, 'Stop playing around.'

            Another step towards the body and more of the floor fell away. Smoke rose in its stead.

            There was nothing now but Ciel and the body, everything else eaten by the rot.

            ' _Stop_ it.'

            Ciel bent over the body, ignoring how the flesh had begun to peel away from its fingertips. Ignoring how stiff the shoulder was as he shook it. Ignoring how the smoke had filled the empty space around them.

            But he couldn't ignore the smell.

            'Alois.'

            But this body did not have blond hair.

            This body was too big.

            An adult.

            An adult in a dark suit, with dark hair and dark sunken eyes.

            The smoke thickened, forcing itself into Ciel's lungs, yet the smell of the man overrode even that. The pervading smell of rancid meat. It clung to him, reached for him with skeletal hands, stretched impossibly far as Ciel stumbled away.

            But there was no floor to retreat across.

            The body did not move yet still seemed to chase, leaving Ciel nowhere to escape its touch. Nothing but bone was left of the hands. They felt hot against his skin, a sharp sting as the fingers closed around Ciel's wrist.

            Smoke rose where they were joined.

            His arm began to simmer, the curve of his wrist bubbling as the man's grip tightened, the skin boiling at his touch.

            Ciel screamed. This time, it was his own voice, his own wail of pain.

            It spread. Inching upwards, the searing red spread across his arm, the skin sliding away from the bone. It got as far as his chest before he could wrench himself free of the skeletal burn.

            Ciel fell back. Where he had walked, there was no ground, but he would take the fall over that agonizing burn.

            The world fell away beneath him, letting him plummet.

            The man followed.

            The rotting smell was strong. It was on Ciel now. It grew stronger as more of his skin fell away, coming clean from the bone. Even without the man's touch, the burn continued to spread, enveloping not only his chest but also his back.

            Ciel knew then, with a certainty only dreamers could have, that he would burn away entirely before he finished falling.

            _Help me._

            His hands were gone, unable to try to catch on to something, anything. Nothing in the smoke-filled drop to grab.

            _Please_.

            The man fell faster, reaching out towards him. Arms spread as though offering a hug.

            _Please, god._

            The smoke grew thicker, the air grew hotter. He began to understand just where the fall would end.

            _Oh, god, please help me._

            He didn't want to finish the fall, not if that was the destination.

            Ciel reached out his own skeletal arms, the ruined fingers grasping for the man's, willing them to fall even faster towards each other.

            'Please!' Ciel screamed as the black surrounding them began to brighten, as the air seared, as the smoke swallowed all. The man reached him, his arms wrapping around Ciel in a scalding embrace, ' _PLEASE!'_

 

 

Waking up was walking through water fully dressed. A slow trawl, exhaustive in its lag. Usually nightmares sent him hurtling towards consciousness, bolting up from the bed in a cold sweat with a half-formed yell on his tongue. Other times, the nightmare wasn't quite ready to let him go. Those were the worst, keeping him his own captive.

             Ciel was free from the plummet and burn but his eye wouldn't open yet. The world was lightening, the brightness of his bedroom bleeding through his closed eyelid, but he couldn't reach it yet.

            The smell was still very real, making his only half-there sense wonder if it was in the room.

            The touch was still there too. Arms wrapped around him, not restricting, just _there._

            Ciel awoke still feeling that ghost embrace.

            'You shouldn't leave stuff like this where someone could see it,' Agni said, knelt down to collect together the scattered pages of Alois' journal, 'Where do you want it?'

            Agni's presence wasn't as much of a surprise as it should have been. Ciel had felt that someone was in the room, though his sleep-addled mind had been sure it was somebody else, somebody who couldn't possibly have been there. It was more a disappointment than a shock, which was silly in itself.

            'Just leave it on the desk,' Ciel said, 'Not like anyone could read it anyway.'

            'True,' Agni flicked through a couple of the pages, squinting at the indecipherable scribbles, 'But there are certain ... assumptions that could be made from this alone.'

            Ciel's heart was still beating a bit too quickly for comfort. He ran his hands over the bed sheet, forcing himself to focus on nothing but the feel of the cotton sliding against his fingertips. Each slow stroke grounded him, more and more.

            'Has Soma calmed down?'

            Agni had put the journal inside the top drawer instead, along with the broken pocket watch. Cleaning up the room, cleaning up potential evidence, there was no doubt that he knew.

            'He's trying to,' Agni replied, fixated on aligning Ciel's pen and pencil neatly, 'I never realized they were so close.'

            'They weren't. Soma's just a bleeding heart.'

            'Well,' Agni smiled bitterly, 'Someone has to be.'

            What had remained of the dream was gone, and in its absence, Ciel found his calm. As disturbed as it had been, the sleep had done him good, putting some distance between him and that terrible morning.

            He was above it now, watching below like the spectator he had promised himself he would always be.

            'I'm assuming you didn't come in here for small talk,' Ciel said, getting up from the bed. The journal and the watch weren't the only things Agni had moved, everything neatly on shelves. He'd find time to be annoyed about that later.

            'I wouldn't consider this ... _small_.' Agni sighed quietly and stopped fiddling. 'You have a guest. I've been asked to take you to the visitor's room.'

            It wasn't panic that Ciel felt then. Just bemusement.

            'Odd time to have a guest. Aunt Ann only comes every third month.'

            'It's not your aunt.'

            Agni refused to say any more, giving Ciel a few minutes in the bathroom to freshen up. On the ward, normality had resumed. Someone had given Joker some ice, probably Agni, which Beast held against his swollen nose. Beside them, Jumbo, Wendy, Dagger and Freckles chatted happily enough. Even Drocell and Snake were playing along, tucked away in the corner rather than in one of their bedrooms.

            Soma was nowhere to be seen, his bedroom door closed.

            It would take a while longer for him.

            They passed no other members of staff on their way to the visitor's room. Even the infirmary was empty.

            'Do they know?' Ciel asked below his breath.

            'I don't know,' Agni answered.

            Agni left him at the door, though the escort always came inside usually. Yet the way Agni was acting left no room for apprehension. Ciel was certain who was inside long before he went through the door.

            'Been a while.' Sebastian pushed off from the wall as the door closed behind Ciel. He looked better than he had in a long time, Ciel thought, better than since he had first come to St. Victoria's. 'Alright?'

            'Alright,' Ciel replied, walking past him to sit down. All the tables were free, the room empty besides the two of them. It didn't come as a surprise. Only the most persistent of people got through St. Victoria's administration and were allowed a visit. As far as he knew, only Ann had succeeded, none of the others getting visitors. If it weren't Ann coming to see him, Ciel knew of only one other person who would use this method. 'Agni didn't sign me out on the log. I doubt anyone will check my room for me. Still, we should make this quick.'

            'I'm fine too, thanks for asking.' Sebastian pulled the chair around from the other side of the table, sitting next to Ciel rather than across from him. If he was grateful for the casual gesture, Ciel didn't let himself acknowledge it.

            'I can see you're fine,' he looked Sebastian up and down, 'Too fine, if anything. Where have they had you lately?'

            'Same place.' Sebastian smiled. It wasn't the same smile it used to be. 'I've taken over for Ash entirely, as far as I can tell. Been doing most of his work from the start, haven't I? Makes you wonder what he gets up to instead.'

            It had been a good month or so since Ciel had last seen Sebastian. Even then, that had been the briefest of meetings, hidden away in a corner of the garden. Hearing the gruesome details of his work on Ward V. Feeling the weight of his own culpability in Sebastian's new situation.

            It never failed to stagger him, just how much could change in a single month.

            Ciel lay one of his hands down on the table, palm up. Unlike that day in the garden, there was no hesitation. Sebastian covered Ciel's hand with his own immediately, thoughtlessly, as though it was the only thing to do.

            Sebastian's hand was colder than Soma's had been.

            'First time Agni's spoken to me properly in a while.' Sebastian stared towards the closed door, the silhouette of his once-friend standing sentry. 'Seemed to think you needed a shoulder to cry on. Somehow I doubted that.'

            'Don't worry, I wouldn't dare risk staining your top.'

            The scar had grown fainter, now that he looked, that aging bite mark on Sebastian's hand. What had once been a stark, jagged path of white was barely visible now. For it to fade to that extent, he mustn't have bitten hard enough.

            Ciel flipped their joined hands over, pinning Sebastian's to the table instead. Beneath his, Sebastian's hand tensed, squeezing to the point of pain for a moment, then went still.

_He could turn us around if he wanted to._

            But he wouldn't. Ciel knew that now, without a shadow of a doubt. It may have become the only thing he _did_ know with certainty.

            He didn't need to see the scar as proof.

            'Alois is dead.'

            Unsurprised. Unaffected. Agni had already told him. But Ciel had still needed to say it. To know that he could say it.

            'The body will be gone by morning,' Sebastian predicted, 'There's a one day turn-around for clean-up. You should check the room when you get back, make sure there's nothing in there you wouldn't want them to see.'

            'I already did. There was only one thing. As useless to them as it is to me, but I've taken it.'

            Ciel chose not to question Sebastian's immediate knowledge of the clean-up process, just as he chose not to remember that Sebastian's own clean-up had happened while he was unconscious, that knowledge lost to him. What he chose not to know couldn't ruin the delicate balance he had to maintain.

            'It was Faustus, that much I'm certain of. Probably the medication he had Alois on, going by the track bleed stain on Alois' sleeve. Outside of those facts, I'm ... in the dark.'

            'Does it matter?' Sebastian asked bemusedly, 'It's irrelevant now. Knowing just what happened won't change the fact that it happened. It can only distract.'

            'Of course it matters!' Ciel snapped, 'If I know what happened then I can avoid the same happening to us.'

            Sebastian laughed through his nose.

            A month could change everything. A life could crumble, a life could end, a life could be altered unrecognizably. Ciel had known the minute Sebastian had first spoken to him on the ward that first night that it was likely he would be killed. What he hadn't imagined was that someone else would take his place, wearing his face, speaking in his voice, but all the heart gone from him.

            All the heart _taken_ from him.

            And it could never be given back.

            'Whatever happened, he has my condolences,' Sebastian said, managing to sound half-sincere, 'But you can't honestly believe that you and I were ever on the same playing field as Alois. What happened to him _can't_ happen to us. So puzzling over it, playing detective, it's a waste of our time.'

            Ciel swallowed against the angry rebuttal already formed.

            _I did this._

            And he wasn't ashamed of it. There may have been some guilt. The knowledge that Sebastian would have remained an entirely ordinary man if Ciel hadn't played him from the start, ensuring he stayed at St. Victoria's. His hand in it was undeniable, so he wouldn't try to deny it, wouldn't shrink away from the role he had played.

            Ciel had wanted an accomplice, and he had gotten one, even if it had meant destroying an innocent man in the process.

            Now he had to live with that reality, with the man that had been born because of it. A man who talked and smiled like one of _them_. But a man who had become one of them at Ciel's behest. Who asked after his wellbeing offhandedly while scrutinizing his every breath for a hint of something wrong. Who held his hand without hesitation.

            _I did this. And now I have to accept what it's made you. What I've made you._

            Ciel took a slow breath in, let it out in one big sigh.

            'You're not wrong,' he said, shrugging with a flippancy he didn't feel, 'Not like knowing how it happened will bring him back.'

            Sebastian watched him for a moment, eyes sweeping over his face for any hint of truth. When he found none, he smiled that same vacant smile, beginning to stroke Ciel's wrist softly.

            'So no need of a shoulder to cry on?'

            'I'm much more in need of a working keycard and a willing accomplice.'

            Sebastian's eyes lit up. It was a muted sort of excitement. His touch turned more deliberate, a slow brush over Ciel's pulse point.

            'You're in luck,' he said, 'I might know a guy.'

            'The game has changed. Once they find Alois, once the change becomes known to the others, all bets are off. I just have this feeling that ...' Ciel trailed off. It was hard to translate to words, this sudden restless need to escape, how different it was from the desire for freedom he had always felt before. This new feeling was an entirely different creature, pushing beyond the limits of Ciel's control. Maybe it was fear, fear demanding to be felt, beyond the calm he was forcing upon himself.

            'That the play acting will end,' Sebastian finished for him, 'Like a domino effect. One person broke whatever rules or principles they had, stepped outside of their given role, and now they'll all follow suit.'

            'They all do it for different reasons, I think. For Angela and Ash, it's about control. With the Chairmen never here, it's their orders everyone follows, their word is absolute. They'd try to maintain the norm, I think.' Ciel frowned, picturing the other members of staff, reading his experiences with them. 'Grell was broken out there before she was broken here. St. Victoria's was just one push too many.'

            'She's one to avoid, when everything goes to hell,' Sebastian agreed, one too many rude awakenings over his time there enough to convince him of that, 'I don't think Will is someone to worry about. He told me he considers this just another job to perform. As disturbing as the depth of his apathy may be, I can't see him acting outside of orders. If anything, he'd probably follow Angela or Ash's lead.'

            'Which could be a problem in itself,' Ciel said, knowing how thin their veneer of calm could be, 'If they think they're losing control, I dread to think what they'd resort to. The Room might be the least of our worries.'

            Sebastian shrugged, 'A room is only a problem when you don't have a key.'

            'True.' Ciel gave Sebastian's hand a squeeze of acknowledgement. 'When it comes to Grey, as far as I can tell, he's just in this for his own amusement. But he turns nasty quick when he doesn't get the reaction he wants. I'm not sure how different he'll act when it comes to it.'

            'Phipps and that John Brown, I've never gotten a good grasp of them. Especially Brown. I've had next to nothing to do with them,' Sebastian said. His interactions with Brown extended only so far as being insulted by his hand puppet. Phipps, even less.

            'Phipps ... he's neither here nor there. I've never known him to be a threat, but at the same time, I've always had the feeling that it's because he's never _chosen_ to be one. His motives, I haven't a clue,' Ciel admitted, 'And Brown. I've met him, been in the same room more times than I can count, but I've never dealt with him directly. Like Phipps and Grey, he's considered one of the psychiatrists, but I've never seen him answer to Faustus. None of them do, in fact.'

            'So all three of them are question marks, then.'

            'I suppose so.'

            'Reassuring.' Sebastian grimaced. 'Personally, I'm wondering the most about Knox. He's never on either ward, from what I've seen. He's not remotely antagonistic towards the patients when he _does_ interact with them. He seems ... normal.'

            'I remember Finny saying he was usually in the archives, but he would sometimes show up in the gardens or the kitchen and offer to help. Not that he was much help, from what Finny said. Spent most of his time flirting with Meirin.'

            'So ... he just does whatever he wants? And no one does anything about that?' Sebastian couldn't imagine Angela and Ash just letting Ronald wander about of his own volition, however harmless such wanderings might be to whatever grander scheme was at play.

            Ciel sat up straighter, expression pensive.

            'You know, when I was younger and still thought this place was legit, I had a theory about the power structure.'

            'Oh?' Sebastian smirked, 'I'm having trouble picturing a you that wide-eyed and bushy-tailed.'

            'I wasn't _born_ assuming the worst of everybody,' Ciel rolled his eyes, 'I just learned better.'

            'Don't skim the details.' Sebastian seemed tickled by the idea of a naive, trusting Ciel. It was an image he just couldn't reconcile with the person he knew. 'Are we talking _long?_ At what point did you figure out these lovely people probably weren't looking out for your best interests?'

            Ciel looked supremely unamused.

            'I was twelve,' he said with a scowl, 'And don't forget who showed _you_ what lovely people your colleagues are.'

            'And you have my gratitude for that,' Sebastian assured, not an echo of sincerity in him, 'But go on. What did little you think about the power structure?'

            Ciel sighed, trying to remember what it was he was saying before getting sidetracked.

            'It always seemed to me that everybody was following a different person's orders. It _seemed_ like Angela and Ash were in charge, but that was only because none of the chairmen were ever here, for whatever reason. With three of them, you'd think one would stick around,' Ciel leaned closer over the table, as though someone in the empty room would overhear, 'But I noticed a pattern. Agni mentioned to Soma once that it was Tanaka who replied to his application and hired him. And whenever Tanaka visits, it's always Agni who deals with him.

            'It was the same with Finny, and I'm assuming Bard and Meirin too. They were hired directly by Tanaka -- I asked -- and it was him who they communicated with about what needed to be done in the kitchens or what cleaning and gardening equipment they needed to buy. They barely said a word to Angela or Ash, and it was the same the other way around. That's why they were always struggling for supplies to do their work. When they couldn't get in touch with Tanaka, they couldn't get any, because they wouldn't ask Angela and Ash.'

            Sebastian nodded slowly, thinking back to his brief time with the trio.

            'Not just Angela and Ash. I don't remember them associating with _any_ of the others. Outside of being polite, and as friendly as the three of them were. The only person besides me I ever saw them talking normally with was ... Agni, I suppose.'

            'Who was also hired by Tanaka,' Ciel affirmed, that familiar glint of satisfaction in his eye, 'This is just hearsay, so I hesitated back then to let myself put too much emphasis on it, but I heard that Will and Grell were personally hired by Undertaker. They're always the first people to know when he's visiting. Once, I overheard Angela angry about it, that they'd been informed even before she was.'

            'So you think there's some sort of ... faction system going on?' Sebastian asked. He could see the logic, but he could also see the paranoia of a twelve year old newly exposed to the cruelty of adults, one that saw enemies everywhere. That same paranoia resurfacing at the same time he found his friend murdered; it was difficult not to make a link between the two.

            'I _did_ ,' Ciel corrected tetchily, 'The theory went nowhere, not that there was anything I could do with it. You were hired by Tanaka but it's Undertaker who treats you like one of his. Remember last time he visited? You were the one he spoke with, long before anyone else knew he'd come. And Agni answers to Angela and Ash readily enough. So that theory went nowhere. But mentioning Knox made me think of it. Maybe he just doesn't consider himself working for those two, so he won't do as they say.'

            'There could still be something to it. It'll be good to keep in mind,' Sebastian allowed, relieved that Ciel didn't still give weight to the theory. He personally had his own idea on why Agni obeyed Angela and Ash, but didn't see the point in sharing it, 'So long story short, we have no idea about Knox.'          

            'It's ultimately irrelevant.' Ciel's tone changed, no longer pensive. His hand gripped Sebastian's tighter. 'We won't be here to see how they're all going to turn.'

            Sebastian smiled.

            'What do you need me to do?'

            'I need you to answer me a question,' Ciel said, 'And I need you to be honest.'

            Somehow, Ciel felt like that was asking a lot of Sebastian now. That new smile of his, that good-humoured amiability, it was all an armour of lies he had built himself. To separate himself from what he was doing, but also to separate himself from who he had been.

            Ciel knew better than to try to reach that person, but he wasn't sure he could trust the person before him now to be as honest.

            Ciel already knew the answer to his question.

            'Do you love me?'

            But he would only know if he could trust the man Sebastian had become if the answer was the same as Ciel's.

            Sebastian looked only slightly startled by the question, by the uncharacteristic sentimentality if nothing else. He took some time to answer, fingers grazing lightly over Ciel's wrist, feeling the slow thrum of his pulse.

            'Ciel,' he said after a long moment, his smile gentler than it had been for a long time, 'You and I aren't capable of love. Not anymore.'

            Relief washed over Ciel. He allowed himself to laugh, more unreserved than he ever did, relaxing in his seat.

            If Sebastian had answered any other way, it all would have been ruined. Everything Ciel had built between them over the past two years, the sacrifices he had made of himself, letting opportunities to escape pass him by for Sebastian's sake. If Sebastian had lied, had misjudged what answer he really wanted, then the trust between them, whatever bond it was that they had, it would have been broken. The sort of break that could never be repaired.

            It wasn't love.

            Ciel didn't have that in him to give anymore.

            And whatever potential for love had been inside Sebastian had died with Patient V7 on Ward V, had been stripped away with every order he followed and every part of himself he had abandoned to survive.

            It wasn't love, but it was _something_ , something of their own creation.

            Ciel moved towards him, leaning his forehead against Sebastian's.

            Warm breath fanned across his face.

            'I need you,' Ciel said, 'I need you to get me out of here. This isn't a game I can win with any amount of scheming or calculation. The playing ground was never even, it was never fair. It doesn't matter if they come after me. I need to -- _we_ need to get out of this place.'

            'I'll get you out of here,' Sebastian promised, fingers closing around Ciel's wrist. It should have alarmed him, a restraining touch like that, but it didn't anymore, not from Sebastian, 'Just tell me what you need me to do.'

            'Come for me tonight,' Ciel instructed, 'If there's anyone on the ward ... deal with them. If my door is locked, kick it in. We'll jump the wall and run. No glamour, no glory, we'll just run.'

            'What about the others?'

            Ciel pressed against Sebastian harder, eye squeezed shut.

            ''We'll ... send help for them.'

            Sebastian understood what that really meant.

            'You think this will work?' he asked, 'You've never tried it before.'

            'There were too many consequences before. I didn't think it was worth the risk when waiting and seeing how things played out would be more beneficial. I didn't ... see this coming.' Alois cold in his bed, the ward no longer their safe haven, the clock ticking towards disaster. 'The consequences don't matter now. We need to get out.'

            Ciel moved before he could let himself back out.

            An acknowledgement of the risks Sebastian was taking for his sake.

            An apology to the man Sebastian had once been, the man he had wilfully thrown aside.

            An equivalent exchange. For all the rules Sebastian had broken for him, Ciel now broke his own rule.

            Sebastian leaned into the kiss, the chaste thing it was, hand hovering in the air where he had gone to cup Ciel's face before second thinking. Ciel grabbed it, placing it against his cheek, keeping tight hold of his wrist.

            He could move it when he wanted to. He could end the kiss when he wanted to. He could tell Sebastian to never kiss him again and he knew Sebastian would obey.

            Ciel pulled back, satisfied that Sebastian didn't try to pursue him, didn't try to fight the hold he had now on both Sebastian's hands.

            'Tonight, then,' Ciel said, a little breathless.

            Sebastian grinned, 'Tonight.'


	30. Chapter 29 (Part 1: Sebastian)

Packing his bag for a quick get-away had become second nature to Sebastian. Clothes rolled up to save on space, toiletries double-wrapped in case of spillage, bits and pieces accumulated throughout his stay weighed for their worth. Most found themselves in the bin usually, but this time, all the useless scraps were placed neatly within his bag.

            Leaving any trace of himself behind would be a fool's error.

            It was hours before the ward's curfew, and so hours before their plan could commence. A day free from his own activities left him little else to do than double and triple check the room.

            They were suddenly on a timer, yet it felt to him as though they were standing still. He couldn't relax, but it wasn't from fear or worry. Plain restlessness had him pacing the room, checking the clock, rearranging his clothes inside the bag.

            He forced himself to sit down.

            _Eight o'clock curfew. Leave it at least an hour for things to settle for the night._

_My keycard still works on the ward but my name may be on a blacklist. Assume someone is coming as soon as I swipe in._

_Take care of anyone on the ward._

_Get Ciel, whether his door opens or not._

_Run to the gardens._

_Jump the wall._

_Then don't stop running._

Calling it a plan was a bit generous, but it was the best they had. Then again, none of their past plans had been strokes of genius either. It was a wonder they weren't in a worse situation than they already were.

            Another three checks of the room and Sebastian couldn't stand the sight of the peeling wallpaper and bare shelves anymore. Making sure the bag was stashed beneath his bed and the door was locked behind him, he got out of that room before he started climbing the walls.

            Truth be told, he'd have rather been working than just twiddling his thumbs like this. At least on Ward V there was a sense of productivity, however shammed.

            _West from the residential building runs parallel to the only road near here. That would be the best bet._

            If they were pursued, and Ciel had once been certain he would be, then the assumption would most likely be that they'd go in the complete opposite direction to the road. That would be where any pursuers would look. The opposite of that, taking the road, would be too on the nose. Even Sebastian wouldn't be so arrogant as to do that. But parallel to the road, far enough across the adjacent field to see but not be seen, would be perfect.

            The wall was highest at that point. Not impossible to climb, but Ciel would definitely need a boost. The drop on the other side may be deeper, however, and doing it in the dark would make it difficult to judge.

            Sebastian would have to drop first. He would handle an injured foot better than Ciel.

            _I'll check what I can while it's still light._

            It was a typical Winter's day out in the garden; harsh winds, sharp rain and everything touched by a thin layer of frost. Even walking carefully, Sebastian's feet threatened to slip from beneath him every so often. That would worsen through the night.

            Running the distance from the building and jumping the wall, he hadn't factored ice into that.

            _I'll get salt from the kitchen. Salting the soles of our shoes just before we come outside should help._

            Were there any other outliers he hadn't considered? If the weather worsened, how would Ciel's health fare? He was hardly robust. The cold could trigger his asthma, too. How much use was left in that inhaler? As far as everyone else knew, he hadn't interacted with Ciel in a good few months. Could Sebastian sneak another one from the infirmary without arousing suspicion?

            Sebastian frowned, treading carefully around a half-frozen puddle. The more he thought about it, the more he could find a dozen things they had overlooked. A dozen more things that could go wrong.

            _Because I'm looking for them._

            They would deal with any problems if, or when, they reared their head. If slipping on ice was the worst they encountered then they would be very lucky.

            After twenty or so minutes circling the garden, Sebastian had mapped out the best escape route, one that would send them West with the shortest distance between door and wall. Better still, it was tucked in the corner between both buildings, shielding it from the worst of any potential weather problems.

            'Ehhhhhhh, who's that, then?' Sebastian stiffened as footsteps crunched across the frozen grass towards him. 'Hope we haven't caught you slacking off.'

            It took him a moment to place that voice, it had been so long since he had last heard it.

            Putting on his best smile, Sebastian turned around.

            'Today's my rest day. What's your excuse?'

            Undertaker laughed wheezily. Same unkempt mop of grey hair, same baggy black clothes with want of a needle and thread, same unhinged grin from ear to ear. Near two years since Sebastian had been introduced to the man and he hadn't changed in the sli --

_Oh._

            'That's ... quite a scratch,' Sebastian observed, eyeing the track of stitches wound around Undertaker's face. Creeping out from under his hair, across his cheek and disappearing again on the other side, the stark black of the stitches left the man looking even paler. Where the thread dipped in and out of his face, the skin was pulled taut, purpling and shiny.

            A fresh wound.

            The stitches sagged slightly when Undertaker's grin only grew. The wound wept ever so slightly.

            'I'm usually quite dexterous,' Undertaker replied, picking at a fraying thread at the bridge of his nose. When he pulled at it, the skin it held together visibly moved. Months ago and the sight would have made Sebastian nauseas. Now, it didn't really rank in his top ten unappealing sights. If anything, it was difficult to look away, in a morbid sense. 'Typical that'd fail me when I was fixing myself up.'

            Sebastian echoed Undertaker's laughter, though not nearly as energetic.

            'You did those yourself? You're a braver man than me, I'll give you that.' They did look like a DIY job, to be perfectly honest. Still, sharing that fact was a good method to avoid saying what had actually happened, Sebastian noticed. 'Mr. Tanaka, good afternoon.'

            'Hello, Mr. Michaelis.' Tanaka smiled pleasantly, tipping his head in greeting. Hands clasped together behind his back, dressed smartly in a semi-casual suit, he was the picture of propriety. A sure contrast to his companion.

            Certain he already knew the answer, Sebastian asked, 'So what brings the two of you here? Business or pleasure?'

            The three began a slow lap of the garden, despite the bite in the air. He couldn't speak for the others, but Sebastian was certainly feeling the cold, not dressed to be outside. His thoughts strayed to the night again. Sebastian had a coat, but did Ciel? Had he ever needed one here?

            'Business,' Tanaka replied, at the same time as Undertaker said, 'Business is pleasure.'

            They shared a look that Sebastian couldn't read. Irritation? A shared joke? Impossible for him to tell.

            'We've been made aware of an unfortunate incident that has taken place within the facility,' Tanaka stated, looking Sebastian in the eye. Contrary to Undertaker's grotesque stitch-fiddling, this was much more unsettling. 'It's necessary that we investigate the circumstances which allowed for something of this nature to happen. You can understand, a patient coming to harm, self-inflicted or otherwise, cannot go unscrutinized.'

            'No, no, of course not,' Sebastian agreed, his frown convincingly confused, 'But this is the first I've heard of it. Has something gone on?'

            Tanaka's stare didn't waver, 'A patient has died. We have sufficient reason to believe it was not an accident.'

            Sebastian slowed his steps, mouth left slightly open as he struggled for something to say in his pseudo-shock.

            'Who?'

            It was as dismayed as Sebastian had ever sounded, even before St. Victoria's. For some reason, that made Undertaker chuckle.

            'Confidential,' he said, coming to a stop as well, 'At least until tomorrow. We're holding a meeting in the morning, if you're free?'

            Something about the way he said that almost made Sebastian's act slip.

            'I'll see if I can squeeze it into my busy schedule.' Sebastian grinned. Had that pause been too long, too telling? Or was he reading more into Undertaker's words than there had been, searching for yet more problems that weren't there? 'Though that means I'll have to bump my nine o'clock yoga class.'

            'Always preferred pilates, myself,' Undertaker tipped his head to the side, contemplative, 'Though there's nothing to cheer you up on a Monday morning like seeing a beginner try to do the Crane pose, hah.'

            'Something like this happening certainly makes you think,' Tanaka continued as though they hadn't spoken, walking on ahead, 'Above all else, the facility should be a safe space for the people we are entrusted with. A scandal like this could cause no end of trouble, and the ones who would truly feel the brunt of that trouble would be the patients. That has to be avoided, for their sake.'

            'For _their_ sake, we should consider that this isn't a safe space anymore,' Undertaker took to playing with the stray stitch again, picking at it as he spoke, 'Maybe the stepping stone's usefulness has already expired.'

            'Stepping stone?' Sebastian asked. He was losing his footing in this conversation, sensing that it was one the two men had had many times before. There was a tired, almost recited quality to their words.

            'Wellllll, that's all St. Victoria's is, Michaelis.' Undertaker shrugged. 'The stepping stone between grief and stability. Being a patient here isn't supposed to be a life sentence. It's about rehabilitation. Fixing what's broken inside their funny little heads so that they can go back to the big bad world.'

            'If that's _plausible_ ,' Tanaka cut in, 'But the fact of the matter is that, for most of them, it's not. For most of them, a place like this is the only place they can belong for now.'

            Undertaker snickered, 'But that's a failure on our part, don't you think? We're supposed to fi -'

            'Not everybody can be fixed,' Tanaka said. 'These people are vulnerable. Out there, in the real world, they'd be eaten alive. I've seen that happen far too many times. I won't see it happen again. That's why I founded this place.'

            Sebastian didn't have to sham his surprise this time.

            'Mr. Tanaka, _you_ founded St. Victoria's?'

            Sebastian fell into step beside the older man, watching his face carefully. For all that Tanaka was clearly in his twilight years, he hardly seemed old enough to have founded the institute. St. Victoria's had that feeling to it, of having seen centuries pass by. Tanaka could only have been in his mid-sixties at the latest.

            Tanaka smiled absently, a far-away look in his eyes.

            'I've always worked with children. My parents owned a care home in central London, you see. When I turned twenty, I was made the Head Manager, as they were expanding the business into other cities across the country. It was a ... _hard_ job. The hours were long, the gratitude minimal. By the time these children came to the home, most had already lost something vital inside of them. No matter how hard I tried to help them, the damage had already been done. Of course there were a handful of successful cases. Children who went on to be happy in their new homes. But they were the minority.'

            Tanaka aged with every word. Grief for the children he had failed to save, at least in his eyes, added lines to his face. With that regret, Sebastian had to admit that he looked more than old enough to have founded the institute.

            _This is honest_ , Sebastian could see, though hesitant to believe it, _no one could fake remorse like this._

            'It was that last funeral that did it for me. His name was Derrick Arden. He was a... troubled boy, but then, they all were. He'd grown up having everything, so when he lost it all, he lost himself too. He had only left the home a few months before getting on the wrong side of the wrong people. I never found out the details -- I suppose it was cowardice on my part, not wanting to know -- but having to bury yet another of the children I was supposed to have helped... I was the only one at the funeral.'

            Tanaka's voice shook, his eyes bright.

            'I realized that day the reason I was failing them. Why I hadn't been able to save them.' Tanaka turned to Sebastian, unashamed of the emotion he was displaying. 'By the time they were coming to me, it was already too late.'

            Undertaker walked backwards ahead of them, swinging his arms exaggeratedly at his sides.

            'The child care system is flawed to its core,' Undertaker agreed, looking over his shoulder to make sure he didn't trip, 'They really go through the wringer before they reach the homes, and even then, they're passed through half a dozen of them before -- well, _if_ \-- they're adopted. Hard to be well-adjusted in those situations, don't you think, Michaelis?'

            'Certainly. A child needs a stable environment to develop properly,' Sebastian replied, though he couldn't quite see how any of this had led to the creation of a place like St. Victoria's. The patients would have had a better chance on the streets.

            'I stopped accepting new children after Derrick's funeral. I focused on the children already there. I managed to find most of them good homes, and those who I couldn't, I helped find affordable housing and jobs when they were of age. Once they had all moved on to their own lives as adults, I closed the home for good. By this point, my own parents had passed away, so I liquidized my assets and invested in this building.'

            Tanaka looked up at the institute, the vines climbing up its faded red bricks. There was fondness in his face, not a shadow of guilt at what was transpiring within those walls.

            'It had been a boarding school, called Weston if I remember correctly, closed for decades by the time I came to it. I loved the atmosphere it had, the palpable history. The refurbishments took some time, but it was a good opportunity for me to do my research, get the necessary paperwork and licenses, find well-trained staff.

            'I'll never forget the first group of children. You think you've seen the worst of the world, but it's always ready to surprise you. Those kids... I'll admit, I was entirely unprepared for what I'd gotten myself into with St. Victoria's. The children at the care homes had suffered, but compared to the children here, there were nights I couldn't sleep thinking of what they'd been through.'

            _Can you sleep now? Would you be able to sleep if you saw what they did to Joker's arm? Would you ever sleep again if you saw Ward V?_

            Sebastian's chest was tight. This whole conversation wasn't sitting right with him. He couldn't sense the slightest dishonesty in Tanaka, but he _had_ to be lying. There was no conceivable way he could be oblivious to what was going on in St. Victoria's. So why this display of compassion to Sebastian?

            Undertaker rejoined their side, grinning.

            'How are they doing these days?' he asked, 'I remember those brothers ended up _very_ well off.'

            Tanaka smiled, face brightening entirely at Undertaker's words.

            'Edward and Richard, yes, I saw them not too long ago. Doing very well these days. Edward won himself a seat in parliament, and Richard is engaged. They haven't set a date yet but I'll be sure to RSVP when they do.'

            Sebastian searched for a tell. A twitch of the mouth, lack of eye contact, fidgeting of any sort. After all this time, after everything that had happened since coming to St. Victoria's, he was confident in his ability to identify a lie.

            Yet he could find no dishonesty in Tanaka.

            _There_ must _be. Patients being released, keeping in contact with him, living their lives in the public eye. It has to be a lie._ Sebastian kept the frown from his face, the smile fixed. _And if it's not, then how can things here have changed so much without his knowledge?_

            'I'm a little curious about something, if you don't mind my prying,' Sebastian began, unobtrusive. When Tanaka nodded, he continued, 'It sounds to me like you take a personal interest in the well-being and rehabilitation of the patients. I can only admire that, I find it a bit difficult myself. As you said, some of the cases... Anyway, it sounds like you were the first point of contact for the patients, back in the early days. I was wondering why that isn't the case anymore. This is the first time I've seen you at the institute since my first day here.'

            Tanaka slowed down, head hanging slightly.

            'I meant no offense,' Sebastian hurried to add, sensing his answer slipping away, 'Running an establishment like this must be a lot of work. Of course you have your own responsibilities to be taking care of--'

            'Above all, the patients are my most important responsibility,' Tanaka interrupted firmly. He didn't look or sound angry, but Sebastian sensed an edge to his words. After a taut silence, Tanaka continued, 'But I'm not a young man anymore, Michaelis. The older I get, the larger the distance between myself and the children becomes. There's only so much I can understand of their problems, and even less I alone can do.'

            Sebastian puzzled over that answer for a moment, finding little sense in it. Age seemed irrelevant, as far as he was concerned. Fortunately, Undertaker seemed just as unsatisfied with that answer, and offered another.

            'Wellllll, you weren't a young man even back then. And a knife to the gut is a bit of an inconvenience no matter what your age.' Undertaker mimed being stabbed, sticking his tongue out theatrically. Tanaka shot him a look and even Sebastian could identify it was displeasure this time. 'Not that it was a proper knife, mind. Though those plastic knives can do just as much damage if you're really trying hard enough, heh.'

            'I... see.'

            So he was attacked by a patient. As far as Sebastian was concerned, it was probably justified.

            'It wasn't her fault. I should have backed off when she warned me to. She never wanted to hurt anybody.' Tanaka absently touched his stomach, knowing the location of the scar by heart. 'But my health wasn't at its best before that, so the incident had a lasting effect. The reason I'm an absentee Chairman is for health reasons. Besides, the admin became too much to juggle, so during my bedrest, I took over it entirely and set up an office in London. But I didn't just leave my post, Michaelis. I ensured there was a suitable replacement in my absence.'

            'Hel _looooo_.' Undertaker waved his sleeve. 'When such a valued customer asked for a favour, how could I refuse?'

            'In most cases with the children from the home, I was the only one they had to ... claim them. Well, frequenting his parlour so often, we came to know each other fairly well,' Tanaka explained.

            'All those young lives. I hate to see such waste.' There was something off about Undertaker's smile there.

            'It was important to me that whoever took over my position shared my views on that. Although an unusual career move, Undertaker agreed to take over for me, though of course I didn't ask him to abandon his own business.'

            'I multi-task.' Undertaker shrugged. 'If you ever need a coffin, Michaelis, I've got you covered.'

            The smile then was definitely off. Sebastian decided to ignore it. He had no plans on needing a coffin any time soon.

            'But clearly this place needs more than what I've given it,' Tanaka continued morosely. 'With Undertaker and myself in London for much of the time, I was sure they would be able to handle the running of institute. But the death of a patient, right under their nose... clearly St. Victoria's needs more than one Chairman on the premises.'

            _They?_ Sebastian didn't need it to be said to understand. _The Third Chairman._

            'They're certainly very absent,' Sebastian agreed seamlessly, 'I've never even seen them around the building.'

            Tanaka frowned, 'Not even on the ward?'

            Undertaker didn't seem nearly as surprised, nothing sincere in his half-hearted, 'Oh dear.'

            'I'm afraid not. Surely they'll be at the meeting tomorrow?' Though Sebastian had no intention of being there himself, he was curious to know just what, or rather _who_ , he'd be missing.

            'If they're not, there'll be trouble~" Undertaker snickered, 'But Michaelis, what do _you_ think? The death of a patient under our very noses. Suspected foul play. On the ward, no less, supposed to be their safe haven. Do _you_ think this is still the safest place for the patients to be?'

            Effortlessly, Undertaker drove the conversation back to the earlier debate, steering away from the subject of the Third Chairman entirely. With no subtle way to move the topic back to it, Sebastian reluctantly let it slip away, though with the knowledge that the Third Chairman was definitely more than a figment of Finny's imagination.

            _What's the right answer?_ Because there was certainly a right and wrong answer. It wasn't an objective opinion they were looking for, couldn't have been. Between Tanaka's certainty and Undertaker playing devil's advocate, there was only one right answer to be given. Not as Sebastian Michaelis, but as an Orderly of St. Victoria's.

            Joining his hands behind his back, Sebastian mirrored Tanaka's pose.

            'It's difficult to consider generalizing the patients. They're all here for different reasons, are at different stages in their rehabilitation. But in my opinion, none of them are yet equipped -- mentally or otherwise -- to handle being reintroduced to society,' Sebastian said, 'Especially with the gang mentality they've developed here. The degree of co-dependence I've seen in them would only spell trouble were it disturbed, even if that disturbance was something as positive as being discharged from the facility.'

            Sebastian's reply was met with silence, the three men continuing their walk through the frozen garden. That silence should have been worrying. The Sebastian from before would have panicked at it, would have repeated what he'd said over and over and over, double-thinking every syllable.

            Not now.

            That had been the right answer.

            That was the answer Tanaka had wanted, and in that moment, it was Tanaka who needed to be sided with. Sebastian wasn't sure where that certainty came from, but he had bet whatever was at stake from the little test they were giving him on it.

            After a while, they had looped back to where their walk had started. No more had been said for the remainder of the walk, but as they came to a stop and Tanaka turned to him with a pleasant smile, Sebastian knew he had chosen correctly.

            'Well, we have to be meeting with the Head Orderlies now. It was nice to see you again, Mr. Michaelis.' Tanaka shook his hand with a firm grip. 'The meeting tomorrow will be at nine o'clock. We'll be issuing a memo, but please inform your co-workers, should you cross paths.'

            'I'll be sure to, sir.' Sebastian returned the shake, ensuring his grip was slightly slacker than Tanaka's. He offered his hand to Undertaker too, but he ended up shaking his overly long sleeve instead.

            Tanaka was already half-way to the door before Undertaker turned to leave.

            'Oh myyyyy, would you look at that?' His foot shot out from beneath the sweeping black of his clothes, kicking the wall. In its wake, the brick crumbled, leaving an obvious dent. 'I've been saying we needed the walls rebricked for years.'

            Sebastian eyed the brick dust, the crumbled bits on the ground.

            'I ... didn't realize the wall had eroded so badly,' he said, more impartial than he felt, 'What is it, sandstone?'

            'Yep. Told them it wasn't a wise choice, but hey, who am I to argue against the price tag?' Undertaker grinned. 'Still, it's a good thing I noticed. If it falls in, somebody could get hurt. I'll have to push those twins to find some money in the budget for this, haha. They'll love that.'

            'No doubt.' Sebastian returned the grin. 'We wouldn't want anyone getting hurt, after all.'

            Undertaker finally left then, waving his sleeve above his head as he went. When Sebastian was certain the two were gone, he turned to look closer at the damage Undertaker had done. He hadn't kicked the wall particularly hard. If anything, it was more of a tap, hardly any force behind it. Yet the brick had crumbled away regardless.

            A poorly chosen building material coupled with the typical English weather meant a wall on the verge of collapse.

            _'...a meeting in the morning, if you're free?'_

            It was no coincidence that Undertaker saw fit to show him the state of the wall. Their timely visit to the Institute, questioning his view of the patients and their stability, and now this?

            It was as clear as day. Somehow, Undertaker _knew._

 

 

Eight o'clock came and went. The sky had long since turned to black, and with it, the temperature plummeted. Even within the building, it was inching closer and closer to unbearable.

            Sebastian sat on the edge of his bed, packed bag at his feet, estimating the time in his head. Beneath two layers, goosepimples rose on his arms. The knowledge that he'd soon be giving up one of those layers to Ciel was far from appealing.

            _Ten-ish. Must be._

            Sebastian grabbed the bag strap and tossed it over his shoulder, barely feeling the weight at all. If nothing else, Ward V was more effective than a gym.

            _Got the salt. Got the bandages. Got the inhaler._ Luck had been on his side for once, leaving the Infirmary completely empty that afternoon. A part of him had wanted to take more than just the bandages and inhaler, but common sense prevailed, knowing the more he took, the more that would be missed. Still, he had seen fit to take one more thing, tucked safely within his sock.

            Hopefully, he wouldn't have to use it, but after meeting the Chairmen, he sincerely doubted that the night would go smoothly.

            Sebastian left his bedroom, locking the door behind him. Past his colleague's rooms, through the communal bathrooms and shared living area, down numerous flights of stairs. He left the residential building, hoping that would be the last he would see of it.

            The weather truly had worsened as the day went on. The rain that had threatened at the dark, murky clouds all day finally broke around dinner time and left a nice wet layer for the night's cold to freeze over. Even after dampening the soles of his shoes to make the salt stick, Sebastian struggled to keep his balance as he went. If he was having trouble staying upright, Ciel didn't stand a chance.

            He managed to make it to the main building without a cracked skull, though his knee was sure to bruise in the morning, and had no problem swiping himself inside.

            _Assume they know._

            As soon as his keycard touched the pad, Sebastian prepared himself for the worst. Every use of the keycards were logged. In the past, his abuse of the card was never called out, solely because his abuse of the card was in response to worse abuse from the staff. This time, however, there was no cause and effect, no justification.

            This time, when they knew, they would come.

            The door to the main building swung open and Sebastian stepped inside.

 

 

The main building of St. Victoria's Institute was an entirely different beast at night. The sun went down and its claws came out, or so you would believe from the way people spoke about the place. During the search for Finny, Sebastian had been of a mind to believe them, finding nothing but fear in the stretching hallways and echoing stairwells.

            Now he was more inclined to think that even Meirin, unsuited to her cleaning role as she had been, couldn't have made the place any worse than it had become. Thanks to the damp salt, the muck lining the floors was sticking to his shoes. His every step clung.

            It wasn't so much gothic horror as it was derelict chic. Sebastian hadn't noticed as much during the day, but by the struggling light of the eco-bulbs, the griminess seemed doubled.

            He kept a steady pace. The keycard was gripped tight, ready to swipe in without delay. In the brief time it took the door to open, whoever was inside would be alerted to his arrival, by the beeping of the panel if nothing else. A quick attack was a must.

            Sebastian slipped out of the stairwell to the second floor.

            At the end of the hall, the door to the ward stood. No sooner had he taken a step towards it did the lights go out.

            It wasn't the flicker of a dying bulb. The static buzz the lights always emitted faded away as every light lining the ceilings shut off as one.

            A switch had been flicked. Darkness fell.

            _Well, shit._

            Sebastian noted his own calm as slightly worrisome. Screwing his eyes shut for a few moments, he focused on listening, waiting for the slightest pin drop. Nothing. When he opened his eyes, they had adjusted to the dark enough to not send him flying as he continued towards the ward.

            Half-expecting something to leap out from one of the closed doors along the way, Sebastian lay his bag down on the floor and swiped his keycard over the panel in one swift motion.

            The panel gave its usual three bleeps.

            The door did not open.

            _They know._

            Sebastian had suspected as much, that meeting with the Chairmen far too deliberate, but this made him certain. Somehow, despite the visiting room being empty and security cameras having no presence in the building, the Chairmen had found out about his and Ciel's break-out plan. They had found out and they had sabotaged them.

            Even beyond the glass of the ward's door, Sebastian could see only darkness. Trying to unlock it again would be fruitless, he knew, and there was only so much brute force could do against steel.

            _Sorry, Ciel,_ Sebastian spun around to grab his bag, striding near-blind back to the stairwell, _looks like I'll be making the morning meeting after all._

 

 

Sebastian slept surprisingly well that night for someone half-expecting to wake up with a bag over their head and their balls in a vice. Granted, the knocking on the door was far from a gentle awakening, but finding himself in one piece under the warm duvet more than made up for that.

            'Coming,' he called to the knocker, sliding out from under the sheets. He was still fully dressed, though the extra layers had been sleepily abandoned at various stages of the night. Hand-combing his hair, he kicked his filthy shoes under the bed and answered the door.

            'Morning.' Agni smiled. It was less forced than it had been recently. 'Wasn't sure if you'd heard about the meeting? It's starting in half an hour. Mandatory attendance.'

            'Right,' Sebastian hid a yawn behind his hand,  'thanks.'

            'Thought I'd come see if you wanted to grab some breakfast first? We can probably scrounge something together in the kitchen. Put those old Chef days of yours to good use.'

            Did Agni think enough time had passed for Sebastian to have cooled down over the whole _I may have used you as a sacrificial lamb to save my sort of boyfriend's skin_ thing, or did he just think that doing Sebastian the favour of sneaking a meeting with Ciel under everyone's noses gave him a get out of jail free card?

            Well, points for effort, Sebastian supposed. That anger did feel a very long way away now. An anger so fierce he had tried to take a wrench to Agni's face, that now he couldn't honestly say he felt as his at all.

            'Sure.' Sebastian smiled pleasantly. 'Just give me a minute to freshen up.'

            Agni had barely agreed before the door swung shut in his face.

            Unpacking was a simpler task than packing had been. Within minutes, everything was back in its original place, no clues left behind that anything had been disturbed. Sebastian traded his casual clothes for his uniform, taking an extra few seconds to try and smooth the creases out. The now empty bag was stashed back under the bed indefinitely and all was well in the room once more.

            Well, almost.

            'Just need to pop to the bathroom, won't be a minute,' Sebastian said as he slipped barefoot out of his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

            Agni eyed the mud-caked shoes in his hands uneasily.

            'Went for a walk yesterday afternoon,' Sebastian readily explained, 'The rain didn't half do a number on the gardens. If this winter gets any worse, we might have to start worrying about flooding.'

            Agni could have pointed out that the rain hadn't started until yesterday evening, that the afternoon, although cold and overcast, had been entirely dry. He could have also pointed out, if he were looking for threads to pull loose, that there were no mud tracks anywhere around Sebastian's room, and why would he have taken his shoes off to avoid those mud tracks if it had just been an innocent afternoon stroll?

            Agni could have pointed these things out, but instead, he just smiled again and recommended using a key to get the tougher dirt off the shoes.

            Perhaps something of their friendship could be salvaged after all.

            A good going over in the sink, a bit of scratching with his bedroom key, and the shoes were clean enough to eat off of, if you were unfamiliar with the concept of plates. With that, Sebastian had dealt with the last of the evidence that he could.

            'How do you like your eggs?' he asked Agni as they made their way down to the kitchen.

            A good breakfast, utilizing those old Chef's skills of his, before the meeting. Chances were high that it would be the last breakfast he would be making for himself.

 

 

The neglected meeting room had more people in it that day than it had in a good number of years. Everything about the room spoke of its age, from the dulled floral wallpaper to the creaky wooden chairs, and Sebastian could taste the dust on the air.

            The chairs had been set up in two stretching columns like a school assembly. There was room for far more people than necessary and everyone was a distance away from their neighbours outside of the little groups that had formed.

            Seeing the groups, Sebastian wondered whether Ciel's faction theory held some weight.

            Will, Grell and Ronald were in the front row on the left side. Although sat together, Will was studiously ignoring them, facing the front with his leg's neatly crossed and his hands folded in his lap. Grell inched closer to him by the second, the sole splash of colour in the room. Unlike Will, she was actually paying attention to Ronald, but only to argue with him as he chattered away.

            In the middle of the room, Grey, Phipps and Charles Brown were congregated. Grey was in the row in front of them, sitting with his chest against the back of the chair. They were muttering amongst themselves, none looking particularly enthused. Sebastian couldn't tell from where he was but he suspected they were still in their pyjamas. Early mornings didn't agree with the therapists, clearly.

            At the back of the room, one of the triplets moved a seat to make room for Doctor's wheelchair, and the four infirmary workers settled there.

            Doctor gave Sebastian a little wave as he passed, face brightening.

            Agni walked a little faster.

            Ash and Angela were unsurprisingly together, on the front row, so Sebastian and Agni hung back a few rows from them. Not long after they'd sat down, Claude appeared. For some reason, he saw fit to sit beside Sebastian.

            Sebastian nodded hello but Claude didn't seem to notice.

            Sebastian frowned, eyeing the man next to him. Something was off. Claude seemed out of breath, just noticeably so, and his hair was sticking to his forehead from sweat. He wasn't wearing his glasses, staring vacantly ahead. His fist was closed around something, knuckles a bloodless white.

            'Something the matter?' Sebastian muttered, leaning over slightly. It was unsettling to see Claude so ... unsettled. Coming to the meeting about Alois in such a visible unease, it was as good as a written confession.

            Claude looked over at him, mouth tight. Just as he began to say something, the static shriek of an aged microphone pierced through the room.

            Undertaker tapped the microphone with an overly long nail, blowing up a small cloud of dust as he greeted them all.

            'Apologies for the early morning call,' he said, looking over his shoulder at Tanaka, seated at the edge of the small platform, 'We considered doing a little buffet sort of thing, buuuuut considering the subject matter, that may have veered into rewarding bad behaviour. So let's make this nice and quick.'

            Even from halfway across the room, Sebastian could see how inflamed Undertaker's injury was. Every word he said stretched at his stitches, yet it didn't seem to be bothering him at all. It almost made Sebastian's own skin tingle in sympathy.

            'Not sure if the gossip mill has gotten a hold of this one yet. I'd be surprised if it hadn't. Any ideas?' he posed his audience the question, head cocked to the side slightly. With his fringe so long, it was hard to tell, but he seemed to be looking at everyone individually. Naturally, no one answered. He sighed, disappointed. ' _Really?'_

Tanaka began tapping his foot impatiently. It just made Undertaker grin.

            'I think we've got some fibbers in our midst, but okay, so no one knows?'

            Claude shifted in his seat. It wasn't too obvious, but sat next to him, Sebastian noticed. This visible discomfort was too much, too out of character. Surely Claude had to have expected a situation like this when he did whatever it was he had done? To be so unprepared for it, so openly suspicious.

            If Sebastian were in Claude's shoes, he was certain he'd be much more subtle, if nothing else.

            Tanaka had grown impatient enough to step up to the microphone himself, addressing his employees in a much more sombre manner than Undertaker had done.

            'Yesterday morning, Alois Trancy was found dead in his bedroom.' A pause, letting the information sink in. Sebastian glanced around the room and found no surprised faces. 'Although we have yet to perform an autopsy, cause of death is thought to be an overdose. However, there was no way in which Alois could have done this to himself within his bedroom. He had no access to medication, and although there's a track mark on his arm, no syringe was found within his room. As such, we must assume that the lethal dose was injected _off_ the ward. As the only members of staff who have access to the medication would never make such a careless mistake, we are viewing this as a deliberate act against Alois.'

            The gravity with which it was said stole the air from the room. Even Sebastian, who had suspected Tanaka's response would be this serious after speaking to him yesterday, found himself surprised. _There are going to be consequences_. And judging by the expressions on some of his co-workers' faces, they had realized it too.

            'It sickens me that something like this could have happened.' Tanaka paused, hands clenched around the edge of the podium. Before yesterday and Sebastian would have commended him for the nice artistic touch. Now he knew that anger to be genuine. Tanaka felt the loss of any under his care bone-deep. 'Clearly there needs to be some changes made here, to ensure something like this never happens again.'

            A deep breath, too loud through the microphone, and Tanaka raised his head to look them in the eyes.

            'An enquiry will begin into the circumstances surrounding Alois' death. I will be contacting the police to help me get to the bottom of what has happened here. As such, all staff are forbidden to leave the premises until they have been interviewed by the police and myself. Any attempts to do so will be seen as a confession of guilt.'

            Dissent in the audience. Angela leapt to her feet, her chair teetering on its back legs.

            'You can't be serious! How can you expect the institute to continue to run if you won't allow us to do our jobs? As Head Orderly, it is imperative that I have the freedom to --!'

            Sebastian couldn't help but smile when Tanaka held up his hand, silencing Angela without even looking at her. It was probably more surprise than anything else that had shut Angela up, but even so, there was a perverse sort of pleasure to seeing her stopped in her tracks so dismissively.

            'Do I take this to mean that you're volunteering to be the first interviewed, Ms. Landers?' Tanaka asked, looking over to her impassively. 'Co-operation will be greatly appreciated. The sooner we're done with the interviews, the sooner we can look into just why, with not one but _two_ Head Orderlies, a patient was still murdered right under their noses.'

            Angela's nostrils flared, but there was little more she could do than take her seat.

            Tanaka was growing on Sebastian by the second.

            'As I was saying, all staff are required to stay on the premises until they have been interviewed by the police. To ensure this, the front gates will remain locked and your keycards will no longer be usable on any door in the main building. If an emergency situation arises and you _must_ leave St. Victoria's, come see me and I will organize a police escort for you, to ensure no unnecessary suspicion is placed on you.

            'Furthermore, from this morning until the situation is resolved, the ward is now on complete lock-down. Until I am certain of the safety of the patients, only I will have contact with them. I will arrange their meals, group sessions and activities, so as to keep the interruption of their day-to-day life as minimal as possible. Any objections to this?'

            Sebastian could see more than a few objections. Angela and Ash both were flushed an outraged red, muttering between themselves. Grey had lost his usual carefree expression, chewing on his thumbnail and glancing at his two companions. Most noticeably, Doctor in the back row was stricken, looking to the rest of the staff in a panic.

            Now _that_ was an interesting question. Through all of this, Tanaka spoke of a single ward. Even the day before, he made no mention of more than one group of patients. If the main ward was on lock-down, what did that mean for Ward V?

            Did Tanaka even _know_ about Ward V?

            'Until the situation has been resolved and justice for Alois found, this will be the way St. Victoria's is run. If you would all return to your rooms for the time being, I've been told that the police will arrive tomorrow morning. I apologize to those of you who have done nothing more than your jobs, and to those of you who ensure the comfort and safety of the patients. Let's hope this can be dealt with swiftly and normality resumed as quickly as possible. Thank you.'

            Tanaka finished, oddly formal, and stepped down from the podium.

            'Almost too good to believe, isn't it?' Agni whispered.

            On Sebastian's other side, Claude left swiftly, one of the first out of the doors. Sebastian stared after him, unable to align Claude's usual persona with what he was seeing today.

            'Definitely,' Sebastian replied, walking with Agni out of the hall.

            They were one of the last to leave, trailing behind Ronald and Grell. Tanaka was long gone, no doubt a thousand and one things that needed to be done if he were single-handedly running the ward. Undertaker, however, was still in the hall, talking to one of its last inhabitants.

            Doctor was flapping his hands emphatically, looking even more distressed than he had before. Whatever he was saying, Undertaker was half-heartedly attempting to calm him down, patting him on the shoulder with a shrug.

            'Sebastian?' Agni asked when he noticed how much Sebastian had slowed down.

            'Shhh.' Sebastian kept looking ahead, hands in his pockets, but as they slowly passed by Doctor and Undertaker, all his attention was on hearing what the duo were saying.

            '---ey need me, you can't just ---'

            'You really do stress yourself out. Relax. You've got nothing to be worrying over.'

            'But he said that --'

            'That doesn't apply to you ---'

             Was as much as Sebastian could catch before he had to move on, or risk being caught eavesdropping. Agni looked confused at what he had heard of the exchange, but to Sebastian, it was crystal clear.

            Doctor had nothing to worry about. Ward V wasn't on lock-down, because Ward V wasn't under Tanaka's jurisdiction.

 

 

Above all else, Sebastian needed to meet with Ciel again. Without a doubt, Ciel had a back-up plan for their failed escape attempt last night, but more importantly, Sebastian had discovered a wealth of knowledge in their time apart that could be crucial to said plan.

            Meeting Ciel just became all the more difficult, however.

            Already, their time together was next to none. Since Sebastian's move from the main ward to Ward V and the patient's resulting mistrust, they could barely steal a few minutes at a time, far too many prying eyes. But now, with Tanaka's ward lock-down, it would be completely impossible to speak with Ciel. His keycard didn't work and stealing someone else's would be pointless, only one keycard now having the power to open the ward door.

            _Where will he be?_

            Subtlety was seeming less and less a viable option as the day went on. All their master plans and grand schemes had resulted in nothing but more obstacles. Sometimes, simplicity really was key.

            _The problem will be the police._

            Tanaka would be easily dealt with. A frail old man hardly stood a chance against Sebastian. A careful hit to the head and the Chairman would be down for the count. After that, it would be child's play to get on the ward, free Ciel and make their escape. The rest of the staff would be in the residential building, after all. No witnesses to pull the alarm too soon.

            By the time Tanaka awoke and alerted anyone to what had happened, Sebastian fancied that he'd have gotten a good few hours head start before the police would be on his and Ciel's tail.

 _Hours of countryside before we'd get anywhere near a train station,_ Sebastian calculated in his head, trying to remember the car ride with Hannah back then, _they'll have alerted any local areas to be looking out for us long before we'd even get there._

            There was no optimistic outlook. Even if they somehow evaded the police Tanaka would send after them, what then? No money, no friends or family they could depend upon, the shadow of St. Victoria's always creeping at their heels. Sebastian's passport would be red-marked, Ciel probably didn't even have one, so leaving the country was a no go.

            _But it's the best chance we have._

            It had been a few hours now since the meeting and Sebastian had spent most of it in contemplation. The outcome of the meeting was far different than he could have anticipated, though considering what he had discovered of Tanaka's history yesterday, perhaps it shouldn't have been. Still, regardless of the extent to which he believed Tanaka's sincerity, he couldn't trust that things would all work out, tied up neatly with a bow.

            Unable to enter the main building, Sebastian prowled the garden again, always keeping his eye on the doors. If Tanaka was really performing all the tasks to ensure the ward was kept running then he would need to go back and forth between the two buildings at least once that day.

            He wouldn't do it in the garden, however. Too open, too risky. He would follow Tanaka wherever he was going and take care of him there.

            It was a shame, but the only viable option. After all, if the police really did expose what had been going on at St. Victoria's, Sebastian's hands were far from clean.

 

 

'Would you like some help?' Sebastian asked with a placid smile.

            Tanaka looked up from the pan, steam billowing about his face as he lifted the lid. The kitchen Sebastian had come to think of as his own was in a shambles, the cupboards raided, utensils littering the countertops, mismatched ingredients in various states of preparation.

            Seeing the state Tanaka had made of Sebastian's carefully ordered kitchen was making him less apologetic about the impending blow to the head he was planning.

            'Michaelis, hello,' Tanaka sounded flustered, his manners battling with common sense as he both tried to make eye contact with Sebastian but also not burn himself as he stirred whatever was in the pan, 'The supplies in the other kitchen were appalling. I can't imagine what sort of meals the patients have been getting. Where's the cook? I'd like to have a word.'

            'The cook?' Sebastian's smile became slightly more genuine, 'On holiday, I think.'

            'Holiday?' Tanaka shot him a look of disbelief, 'I didn't receive any requests for time off.'

            Sebastian just shrugged, going over to the table to try and rescue some of the vegetables. Tanaka hadn't been dicing them so much as butchering them.

            'That's really not necessary.' Tanaka took the pan off the hob, waving Sebastian away with a harried smile. 'As I said this morning, I will be taking care of all the patients' needs myself. I mean no offence, but until we get to the bottom of what happened here, I think it's for the best.'

            Sebastian held up his hands, letting the knife droop from one harmlessly.

            'I'm just cutting some carrots, sir. You can search me for poison if you like.'

            Tanaka shook his head, rueful.

            'No, no.' He returned to the pot, stirring the contents again. From what Sebastian could tell, it was some sort of stew. 'Sorry, I just... I'm a little on edge today, what with everything. Meeting the current patients has been very... eye-opening.'

            Sebastian paused, knife hovering over the chopping board.

            'Oh?'

            Tanaka didn't turn to meet his eyes.

            'Michaelis, what happened... to that boy's arm?'

            It didn't take a genius to figure out just who Tanaka was referring to.

            'Joker?' Sebastian tread carefully, unsure how much to reveal, how much to admit he knew. 'When I first arrived, it was fine, but a few weeks later... I can't say I know what happened. Whatever it was, it must have been treated well enough. The wound has never become infected. Still, I imagine it hurts.'

            'Something,' Tanaka swallowed audibly, hands still on the table, 'Something of that degree should have been reported. I have nothing but respect for Doctor's abilities, but we don't have the resources here to treat an injury of that degree... It should have been reported to me.'

            'I always assumed it was, sir,' Sebastian feigned confusion, 'Surely Angela or Ash contacted you?'

            Tanaka's face darkened.

            'Not a word.'

            Sebastian hummed thoughtfully, going back to cutting the vegetables. He could feel Tanaka's anger filling the room and relished in the atmosphere around him. The angrier Tanaka was, the more careless he would be, and the easier that would make it for Sebastian to strike. He would wait a while longer, eyeing his target surreptitiously to see where he kept his keycard. The less time between attack and escape, the better.

            'Michaelis, would you help me carry these up to the ward? Not _on_ the ward, of course,' Tanaka was quick to add.

            'Of course,' Sebastian replied, accepting a dish he was passed and filling it with the stew. That worked even better. If he struck Tanaka right outside of the ward then it would be hours at least before anyone came to check, before anyone would know what happened.

            Sebastian paused.

            'Sir, are you sure you counted these plates out correctly?'

            Loading the full dishes onto the trolley, Sebastian quickly recounted the amount and found it one plate short, even accounting for the lack of Alois. He looked up when Tanaka didn't answer.

            It wasn't anger on Tanaka's face anymore.

            Dread settled in Sebastian's stomach.

            'Sir?' he prompted, calmer than he felt. 'Why are we one meal short?'

            Tanaka finally met his eyes, a blankness there that rivalled even the patients.

            'I may have been... less than honest at the meeting this morning, Michaelis. The reason for the ward lock-down isn't because of what happened to Alois. It's because of what happened last night.'

            'What happened last night?'

            Somehow, Sebastian knew this wasn't about his attempt to break Ciel free.

            Tanaka closed his eyes, shame-faced.

            'Last night, a patient went missing from the ward.'

            ' _Which_ patient? _'_

            If Tanaka found something odd in Sebastian's intensity, he didn't voice it. He seemed too lost in his own guilt to question much of anything.

            'Patient D18,' Tanaka answered, 'The Phantomhive boy.'

 

 

_Him._

            There was no more said between Tanaka and Sebastian after that. In frigid silence, they took the meals to the main building, Sebastian transporting the plates by hand when they came to the stairs. Several trips later and the task was done.

            He left Tanaka to the patients, unharmed. There was no point to an attack now.

            _It's him._

            As soon as Tanaka said Ciel's name, only one face came to Sebastian's mind. The restlessness that morning, the visible unease that had nothing to do with guilt, the quick getaway.

            Sebastian gave no thought to the police coming in the morning. No up cry from his conscience, if he still had one. Distantly, he recognized this was anger, perhaps even fear. But he couldn't say he was honestly feeling either of those things. Not when he had made his decision. Not when he had a task to complete.

            Sebastian returned to the residential building. He had no idea where Claude would be yet his feet carried him on anyway. He needed to be moving, to be doing something. Every second he was still was a second further from Ciel.

            Ciel would be safe, he knew. After all these years, Ciel knew how to play Claude. But even though he knew that, Sebastian still felt his pulse quickening. Joker's words came back to him.

            _"Smile knows. Smile ignores it. Smile plays on it when it suits him. I think he's more scared of it than he'd ever admit."_

            Ciel would be safe, Sebastian knew, yet he broke into a run to find Claude.

            The bedrooms. The bathrooms. The kitchen. The lounge. The storerooms. Sebastian found every person but the one he wanted. With every failed search, he felt the anger and fear stronger. It had been so long since he had felt emotions like this as his own, not as something disconnected, something he consciously shed for survival's sake.

            They were making him foolish. Running around the building like a madman, openly hunting someone. There was nothing subtle about that. No plausible deniability for the police in the morning. Even as he tried to cut the feelings away, shelf them like he had done with his morals, they spread their roots deeper within him until he had no choice but to embrace them.

            If he couldn't shed them, he'd just have to use them.

            _'Michaelis!'_

            The cry stopped him dead.

            Turning, Sebastian saw Claude's slow approach.

            The mud-crusted soles of his shoes dragged along the floor, Claude walking heavier on the one leg. There was blood too, just a little, just enough to notice. His hands were scraped raw.

            What had happened to him?

            Claude slowed to a stop a few steps away, cringing as he put too much pressure on his injured foot.  Closer and there was still more wrong with him. His glasses were missing, the knees of his pants torn. His breaths hitched slightly, rattling when he exhaled.

            For all that Sebastian had intended to ask no questions and attack on sight, the state Claude was in gave him pause. Something wasn't right here. This didn't add up.

            'What...' Claude wheezed. Even Sebastian had to wince, the breathing sounding too painful. 'Have you done?'

            Sebastian considered his answer for a moment, but instead, asked his own question.

            'What's in your hand?'

            Just like in the morning meeting, Claude was holding something. His fist was clenched so tightly around it, his knuckles blanched. Whatever it was, it was small, and more important to Claude than his own body.

            At the question, Claude's mouth twitched. Usually he was the master of himself, only showing what he intended to show. Now, however, he couldn't stop his face from twisting into a snarl.

            'What have you done?!' Claude staggered forward, his lame leg dragged along behind him. The foot was wrenched to the side, facing the wrong direction to where he was walking. It must have been in agony. 'I know it was you!'

            Sebastian let Claude approach, standing his ground. That anger far surpassed what Sebastian had felt. Claude's fear was palpable, his eyes wild.

            _It isn't him_ , Sebastian realized with dawning calm, _he doesn't know where Ciel is._

            That should have been more frightening than anything. The not knowing, the vast possibilities now that there was no certain answer, it should have made Sebastian's heart beat twice as fast as it had before. Yet calm washed over him as he met Claude's wide-eyed stare.

            Because the threat was now unknown.

            Because Sebastian could think clearly now.

            Because this was a fight he was going to win.

            'How did you find out?' Sebastian asked, truly curious, 'I heard from Tanaka. I can't imagine he's just telling anybody --'

            _'Don't play innocent!'_ Claude lunged forward, crashing into Sebastian's chest with enough force to send them both to the floor. Anger may have made him stronger, but Sebastian was quicker, easily pinning Claude on his back.

            'Rude,' Sebastian scolded, a twitch of his mouth betraying his desire to grin, 'I wasn't finished talking.'

            Carefully, he felt around with his foot until he found Claude's own. Bent at the angle that it was, it was all the easier to press his heel against Claude's protruding ankle bone, grinding his shoe down, hard and slow. Claude's eyes bulged, what little colour the anger had given him now draining from his face. He fought to not make a sound, but Sebastian took it as a challenge, shifting his weight until he was entirely balanced on that foot. Through gritted teeth, Claude groaned, the sound becoming higher the more Sebastian pressed down.

            And before long, whatever limit Claude had was breached. He bucked up from the ground, the groan becoming enraged. Sebastian managed to keep one of his arms pinned but the other broke free and came flying at his face.

            Sebastian blocked the attack, but only just. He struggled to recapture Claude's arm, and while he was focusing on that, Claude got his good leg free. Kicking against the floor, Sebastian was dislodged.

            Acting quick, he immediately rolled across the floor, putting distance between himself and Claude. A good thing too, as Claude had wasted no time, driving his fist into the space where Sebastian should have been. Instead, he found only concrete.

            A resounding crack as his knuckles gave from the force.

            Claude cried out in pain, entirely his own doing this time.

            The ruined hand opened limply and what Claude had been holding rolled across the floor with a dull clink.

            Somehow, Sebastian wasn't even surprised.

            'You tried to get into the main building, didn't you?' Despite the fight, Sebastian sounded calm. He wasn't even short of breath. He sat up from his crouch slowly, eyeing Claude with disdain. Collapsed on the floor with his broken ankle and cradling his broken hand, Sebastian couldn't scrounge up the slightest shred of fear. 'What did you do, scale the goddamn wall? Probably an open window somewhere high up, but it's a long drop if you lose your footing.'

            Claude wheezed, his ribs no doubt matching the state of his foot and hand. His palms were scraped raw, his clothes equal parts muddy and dusty. Sebastian could picture the entire scenario. Finding an open window up above, desperately trying to find a grip on the aging bricks, the plummet when those tired bricks gave in under his weight. What he couldn't picture was himself doing that. As desperate as he himself had been to meet with Ciel only hours ago, he wouldn't have done something like that.

            'What is it about him, Faustus?' Sebastian asked, nothing mocking about it. He really wanted to know. 'He has a certain charm, I'll admit that. Obviously it worked on me. But what did he do to get you so... _consumed?_ '

            It was pure hate in Claude's eyes then. His lips drew back into a snarl. There was not a ghost of the calm, composed doctor left in him.

            ' _Charm?_ You think this has anything to do with _charm?_ ' Claude laughed derisively, a hollow wet sound. 'You don't know what you've done. He _needs_ me, Michaelis. I'm the only one who can help him. He was finally getting better, then _you_ showed up. You ruined everything. You ruined _him!'_

            Sebastian thought of Alois then. How broken down he had been, how utterly dependent upon Claude he had become, desperate for even the slightest recognition. Was that what Claude considered a job well done? Is that how he _liked_ his patients? Someone like Ciel, so self-assured and determinedly independent, it would be the prize in Claude's trophy case to turn him into the lapdog Alois had become by the end.

            Isolating Ciel by giving him a degree of freedom none of the other patients had, something to resent or suspect him for. Coaxing some semblance of trust with gifts, toys and books, things he knew Ciel would like despite himself. Giving him hope, and being the one to control that hope, with promises of going to Ann's wedding, going beyond the walls of St. Victoria's. And all those private sessions, those intense one-to-one meetings where Claude could toe the line of decency, of professionalism.

            All because Ciel was the ultimate goal of Claude's fantasy now. Alois had been broken, and once he was, all interest had disappeared for Claude. Alois had been tossed aside, left to fester, until he proved too much of a risk to Claude's new prey.

            What consumed Claude was not any affection for Ciel. Attraction, perhaps, but more than anything, it was the challenge Ciel presented. Alois had been too easy, no doubt other patients before them too, but Ciel had remained impenetrable for almost eight years. And with those eight years, Claude's determination grew.

            A determination that became an obsession.

            A power play.

            Sebastian felt himself begin to grin.

            How disgusting.

            'It must have been quite a ... shock, to see that he'd given that to me,' Sebastian said, eyeing the ring between them, 'I was surprised too. It's the only thing he has left of his parents, it must mean so much to him. To be trusted with something so important, by someone so untrusting --'

            With every word, Claude's face twisted more and more, rage taking over. Sebastian watched him carefully as he spoke, seeing the way his muscles began to tense, his position began to shift. When Claude finally did lunge at him, Sebastian was more than ready.

            Sebastian let Claude force him to the floor. He allowed one punch, and another, and another. Even as white burst behind his closed eyelids and his cheek tore beneath Claude's fist, Sebastian remained still, only raising his leg slowly enough to not be noticed. Even as it lifted Claude slightly too, he was too lost in his anger to notice, and so he didn't see Sebastian slowly reaching out towards his ankle.

            Sebastian waited a second longer, until he tasted blood in his mouth, before pulling the scalpel from his sock.

            If he was going to claim self-defence then he was going to need more than a few bruises to be believed.

            With the scalpel in one hand, Sebastian tangled his other hand in Claude's hair and drew his head down, until his lips were beside Claude's ear. The sudden movement shocked Claude still, long enough for Sebastian to whisper to him.

            'I didn't ruin Ciel,' he raised the scalpel to Claude's neck, 'He ruined me.'

            And in one swift motion, Sebastian flipped Claude onto his back, plunging the scalpel into his throat. He kept pushing it deeper, even as Claude struggled, until there was barely a handle to hold. A spray of blood caught his clothes, but otherwise, this kill was much cleaner than V7's.

            As the life faded from Claude's eyes, the wet choking noise beginning to quiet, the lights in the hallway died.

            For a moment, Sebastian had the ridiculous certainty that the two were linked. He looked around the hallway wildly, expecting a sea of spectators, but there was only him and the body. Then faintly, he heard a noise. It was too quiet to be within the building, but from the sound alone, he knew it was coming from the main building.

            A siren.

            It could only mean one thing; the security in the wards had been breached.


	31. Chapter 29 (Part 2: The Patients)

Of all the people to be sat together, it was Soma and Snake in the leisure room, heads bent together. With Alois' bedroom door shut and the staff disappearing to deal with what they'd found, everyone else had retreated to their bedrooms, while Ciel had been escorted off by Agni.

            Even though it was Agni, Soma didn't like the timing of this supposed guest.

            'He has an Aunt,' Soma said to a question Snake hadn't asked, shrugging, 'Must be her.'

            Soma wasn't expecting an answer. He wasn't really looking for a conversation, truth be told. He was just too restless to go to his own room. Snake had never spoken more than a word to him before, so when he actually did respond, Soma stared in disbelief.

            'What about Alois?'

            Soma's resulting stare made him shift uncomfortably, colour rising in his cheeks.

            'Alois?' Soma frowned, chewing on his bottom lip. 'We never really talked. Outside of arguing, I guess. I don't think he has --' a harder bite, '-- _had_ any family. Ciel's the only one I can think of out of all of us who does, actually.'

            Soma didn't include himself in that. It was better not to think of that.

            'Do you?' It was so rare for Snake to talk to him, Soma couldn't help but try to keep it going. 'Any family?'

            Snake struggled to look Soma in the face, fidgeting compulsively.

            'No.' He scratched at his cheek, the rough, discoloured skin there. 'No family.'

            A while passed and other patients joined them. Jumbo, Wendy and Dagger settled in on the couches, a sense of normality being forced. It occurred to Soma that that was why Snake had sat with him. A show to the staff that they were unaffected, or rather, unaware of what had happened. They were not supposed to know yet, after all, and there had never been a time when _all_ the patients hid in their bedrooms during the day.

            Empty conversations passed back and forth, just to make noise. Soma took part for a bit, but it exhausted him soon enough. All he could think of was Alois' bedroom door. He wished he hadn't gone in that morning. He wished he hadn't seen. Even Ciel had barely looked, but Soma had needed to be sure.

            His eyes were sore now, but finally dry.

            A while longer and Ciel returned to the ward. Soma smiled hello, receiving a brusque nod in return. That usually would have been it, but oddly enough, Ciel seemed to second think himself at his bedroom door and instead joined them on the couches.

            Any other time and Soma would have been overjoyed. Right then, all he could think was that Ciel wasn't maintaining a show of normality for the staff, and that in itself was too unlike him.

            'Where's Joker?' Ciel asked.

            'In his room. He's not feeling too great,' Jumbo replied. 'I've been thinking -- I ran it by Joker before and he seemed to think it was a good idea -- maybe we should sleep in pairs from now on. It might mean some people sleeping on the floor but I think it's wise for the time being.'

            Jumbo looked at each of them, gauging their response.

           Already, Soma could hear Ciel's rejection, outright refusal at the prospect of having anybody in his room, anybody around him while he slept --

            'Mm, sounds wise,' Ciel agreed easily, same as everyone else.

            _Eh?_

            'You with me?' Ciel asked him, as though the very prospect of having somebody else invading his space wasn't the single most horrifying thing he would face that day. Considering the day they had had so far, it would have been more than a little in character.

            'Yep!' Soma grinned, mustering up some of his usual cheer. As soon as Ciel looked away, he dropped it. Something wasn't right. Lowering his voice as the others chatted amongst themselves, he asked, 'So who was the visitor?'

            Ciel looked at him from the corner of his eye.

            'My Aunt. They were trying to send her away -- she didn't call in advance, as usual -- but Agni got me half an hour with her. Tell him thanks for me, by the way.'

            'Oh?' Soma cocked his head. 'What's the latest? She's pregnant, right?'

            'Yeah, and showing. I think she's... six months gone? I got an earful about that, but she was more concerned with the wedding.'

            'Wedding?' This was more detail than Ciel usually gave, especially considering how little Soma was prompting him compared to usual. 'I thought she already got married earlier in the year.'

            'Not her wedding. My cousin's. It's sometime this month.'

            With that, Ciel looked away, pulling Snake into conversation.

            On the face of it, there was nothing weird about anything Ciel had said, yet it wasn't sitting right with Soma. Just how _much_ he'd said, and the timing of the visit, the fact that he was sitting out with them and instigating conversations himself. It wasn't like him.

            Soma sank lower in his chair.

            Of course it wasn't. Ciel wasn't himself today. How could he be, how could _any_ of them be, after what they had discovered that morning? What was he doing, second-thinking Ciel like that, finding suspicion where there wasn't any. Ciel was grieving just like him. It was only natural that he'd seek out other people's company at a time like this.

            _Sorry, Ciel._

            Seeing Alois had hit Soma harder than he himself had realized. If he wasn't careful, he was going to end up as suspicious of their own as Drocell.

 

 

Joker jolted awake, just about managing to mute his groan. Gingerly, he lifted himself up from where he was sleeping on the rug, trying to keep his ruined arm as still as possible. Squinting to see in the dark, loose strands of fabric from the rug had gotten under the skin of his most recent scab. As he had turned in his sleep, they had pulled free, tearing the small wound open.

            This was far from his ideal wake-up call.

            As quiet as he could be, Joker pushed away the blanket and crept over to the bathroom. Jumbo didn't stir, fast asleep on the bed, even when Joker locked the bathroom door.

            Everything hurt.

            It was Jumbo's bedroom so naturally Joker had insisted that he take the bed. Although Jumbo had argued, he was no match for Joker's stubbornness, and so the sleeping arrangements were established. Not one night in and Joker was already regretting that decision.

            His back ached, the muscles stiff from the cold of the floor. Even with the rug, the chill seeped through, stealing all the warmth from him. His legs were cramped from curling up as small as he could go to stay warm. His arm was the worst, though.

            The pain he could manage. It was the itching that was driving him round the bend.

            He had taken to biting his nails like Beast to spare himself the cuts, knowing that the last thing he needed was to tear open the messily scarred stump. But the spreading black veins told him all he needed to know, that maddening itch a warning sign even he could recognize. The recent fevers were the last thing he needed, on top of everything else.

            His friends were scared. One of their own had been murdered. And now Joker felt himself weakening to the infection Doctor had barely been managing to keep at bay.

            Joker ran the tap, splashing his heated face.

            There was a light tap at the door before it opened.

            'You're taking the bed,' Jumbo stated, no room for argument, 'This whole doubling up thing was my idea. I don't mind the floor.'

            Joker was too tired to fight him on it anyway. His head felt too heavy, arm throbbing hot.

            'It was a good idea,' Joker said when they were both settled again, 'Was gettin' sick of everyone bein' too scared to sleep. Not that I can blame 'em.'

            'This'll blow over,' Jumbo asserted.

            Joker was glad for the dark, so he didn't have to see the lie on Jumbo's face.

 

 

There had been no discussion over who was taking the bed and who was taking the floor, not that Soma had expected one. For all his illusions of grandeur, Soma knew his dubious claim to royalty held no water when it came to Ciel and Ciel's things.

            Ciel took the bed. Soma took the floor. No questions asked.

            It was cold, hard and not as clean as he would have liked, but Soma drifted off easily enough. Agni often said he could sleep on a rope, and while he considered that a sort of praise, he didn't fancy trying it any time soon. The floor was uncomfortable enough.

            Soma probably would have slept through the night, if only Ciel's eyesight could manage in the dark. As it struggled enough during the day, Soma was rudely awakened by a foot to the shoulder, a muffled curse and the distinct sound of stumbling.

            'Owwwwww,' Soma whined, rolling over. He was still half asleep, so it took a while for it to register. When it did, he waited to hear the flush of the toilet or running of the tap.

            Neither came.

            Sleep crept away from his reach.

            'Ciiiiiel, what're you doin'?' Soma sat up, rubbing the shoulder Ciel had tripped over. 'If _you're_ not using the bed, then --'

            'Shh!'

            The urgent whisper shut him up. Soma screwed his eyes shut, the world slightly clearer when he opened them again. It took him a moment to realize that the dim light wasn't coming through the little window but beyond the open bedroom door.

            The bedroom door that was supposed to be locked.

            Ciel was silhouetted against the light, tense as a coiled spring. It wasn't just the bedroom door that was open, but also the ward door. That was where the light was coming from, the hallway dimly lit. Even at this time of night, the leisure room should have been lit up too, someone on duty on the ward. But the room was empty, left in darkness.

            'Ciel,' Soma pushed himself up off the floor, 'Come back in.'

            Ciel just waved him off, squinting into the dark. There was no one in the hallway who could have opened the ward door, and certainly no one who could have opened the bedroom door either. The keycards only kept the locks open for a set amount of time before they closed. More than thirty seconds had passed since Soma had been staring at the ward door and it had yet to swing shut.

            'Ciel,' Soma repeated, moving towards his friend. Ciel was scoping the leisure room, trying to find a hidden figure, someone who was toying with them like this. Soma's eyes were better, had already adjusted to the dark, and he could see that the room was empty. Yet his heart wouldn't calm, fear spiking higher and higher with every step Ciel drew further from the safety of the bedroom.

            'Soma, it's fine, stay there.' Ciel turned back to look at him, gesturing him to stay in the bedroom. No sooner had the words left his mouth did Soma's choice get snatched away, the bedroom door swinging shut of its own volition.

            Soma caught the panic in Ciel's eye then, how he started to run back to his room, to Soma. And he tried to catch the door, to hold it open long enough. But the mechanism forcing it to lock was stronger than Soma, and before he could even get a grip on the handle, it had slammed shut.

            'Ciel!' Soma pounded his fists against the door. His fear was a bitter wetness rising up his throat. 'Ciel!!'

            'I - I'm fine,' Ciel called from the other side of the door, words slow and halting, 'Don't panic.'

            'Stay there, promise!' Soma stumbled back, trying to see Ciel's shadow under the door. His stomach dropped when he saw it growing smaller, though he was not a bit surprised. 'No, no, don't go looking, just stay there!'

            Ciel said something then, but he'd strayed so far from the door that Soma couldn't hear him.

 

 

When Joker was next woken up, it was not to the pain of a broken scab but to the sound of shouting. Loud banging. Soma screaming Smile's name. And then a ghostly quiet.

 

 

'Everybody calm down.' Drocell looked as sleep-deprived as the rest of them, eyes shadowed, temper short. He may as well have been talking to a wall, for all the good it was doing. 'We don't _know_ anything happened to him --'

            'They _took_ him' Soma snapped, too frustrated for tears, 'Who else could have done it?!'

            'Yeah, whose side are you on?!' Dagger was all in Drocell's face, looking for a fight. 'You defendin' them?'

            Drocell just rolled his eyes, beyond done with those accusations.

            'All I'm saying is that Soma's story seems a little strange to me.' Before Soma could object, Drocell rose a hand. 'I'm not calling you a liar. I believe what you said _happened._ I just find the details... suspect.'

            'No, no, let 'im talk,' Joker said as an angry buzz began amongst them, 'What you gettin' at?'

            Drocell sank back into the sofa, crossing his legs. There was room enough for all of them to be sitting together in the middle of the room, but only because their numbers had now dropped by two. Drocell couldn't blame them all for being on edge, but their utter resistance to listening to sense was beyond frustrating.

            'Joker, say you woke up to find your bedroom door had been opened, the leisure room empty of any who could have opened it, and the ward door also open; what would you do?'

            A muscle in Joker's jaw jumped. He gave the question serious thought, looking over at the closed ward door sceptically.

            'Personally, my initial impulse would be to make a run for the door. But I wouldn't, because I'd know that something would go wrong. The door would shut just before I got to it. Or someone would be waiting for me in the corridor. Even if I made it off the ward unharmed, what then? I don't know my way out of the building, and to my knowledge, the main door of the building requires a keycard to open. So taking all those things into consideration, I would reason that staying in my room would be the safest option.'

            'You're... not wrong,' Joker allowed, somewhat reluctantly. He seemed to be a step ahead the others in seeing where Drocell was going with this. It wasn't somewhere he liked, but he'd been the one to quieten everyone down.

            'Would you do differently?'

            Joker sighed softly, 'I'd... probably check things in 'ere out, at least. If someone opened the doors then hafta assume someone'd be hangin' about.'

            'And if they weren't? If, like Soma said, the room was entirely empty?' Drocell pushed the point, backing Joker into a corner he didn't much like.

            'Then yeah, I'd leg it back to my room,' Joker shrugged, losing patience, 'I'm a coward like that. Smile's got more of a spine than me an' you, clearly.'

            Drocell ignored the backhanded insult.

            'Any one of us would have put caution first and stayed in our room. Soma too, you didn't leave the bedroom, did you? Because you knew better. You recognized the situation for what it was and didn't leave the bedroom.' Drocell looked around at them all, voicing the thought they had all had that morning. 'So why did Phantomhive?'

            Even Soma looked to the floor, teeth gritted. No matter how many times he replayed the events of the previous night, he could make no sense of Ciel's actions. Exploring beyond the bedroom door, fine, that could be put down to having the nerve to do it. But Soma knew, had the situation been reversed, Ciel would have thought him an idiot for doing the same, would have demanded Soma stay in his room.

            _Even so,_ Soma could excuse it. But he couldn't rationalize why Ciel had _left._ Why didn't he just stay by the door after it shut? Why didn't he stay talking to Soma so he'd know he was safe? Where was the common sense, the logic, in leaving like that?

            Ciel was smart. That was his thing. But there was nothing smart about leaving the ward in that situation, unless --

            '-- unless he was expecting it,' Drocell was saying, having continued his theory while Soma zoned out. Immense guilt washed over Soma, to find that he was thinking the same thing as Drocell, suspecting his best friend of something like that.

            The others spoke up then, dismissing Drocell's theory out of hand. There wasn't even anger in them. They just found it ridiculous. But Drocell wouldn't let it go, so sure he was of Ciel's guilt, his festering mistrust over the last few months finally bearing fruit.

            'Just consider it! Isn't the timing of all this too convenient? Trancy dies, and then the same night, Phantomhive disappears. After the death of a patient, he knew things would be confused, the staff off their guard. And Trancy was in _his_ room that night. I can't be the only one who finds that strange.' Drocell looked around the other patients, seeking even the slightest uncertainty. 'And Agni took him off the ward yesterday afternoon for a _visit._ I can't believe that, I just can't. The timing is too good. After all, just _who_ is Agni friends with?'

            Soma looked at the others too, seeing the seed of doubt beginning to take root. His throat felt too tight.

            'Don't bring Agni into this,' Soma said, 'Agni wouldn't do what you're saying. And neither would Ciel. He --'

            'He wouldn't just abandon us!' Freckles exclaimed. Ever since Soma had burst from the bedroom and told everyone what happened, she had been sat with her head in her hands, silent. But she looked up now, eyes fierce. 'Who was the one who saved Joker back then? Who was the one who checked in on you for Snake when you got taken to the infirmary? Don't you _dare_ accuse him of abandoning us, he wouldn't --'

            ' _I_ was the one who told him to find Joker!' What little patience Drocell had maintained broke. He jumped to his feet, voice rising. 'You think he would have done it if I hadn't planted the idea in his head? He wasn't _saving_ Joker, he was just testing his control over Michaelis when the man was still new. Joker was a means to an end, nothing more.'

            Freckles stood too, unintimidated by the height Drocell had over her.

            'You don't know him. You don't know _any_ of us,' Freckles' lip curled, shaking her head slowly, 'You close yourself off in your own little world and only bother to associate with us when it suits you. Why would any of us trust your judgements when you clearly don't trust us, when you don't care about us enough to associate with us when you don't have to? No, you're wrong, and if you'd turn on Smile this quick, I don't see why any of us should trust _you.'_

            _'Enough!'_ Joker pinched the bridge of his nose, teeth gritted against the pulsing pain in his arm. 'Just.... both of you, sit down. This ain't gettin' us anywhere.'

            Matching glares on their faces, Drocell and Freckles returned to their seats.

            'Look. I can honestly say I don't give a shit _why_ Smile got me outta The Room. When 'im and Black walked through that door and got me out, I've never 'bin more relieved, alright? Motives aside, the end result was that I got out, and that's all I care about... that bein' said,' Joker sat up straight, nodding at Drocell, 'I don't doubt Smile had his own reasons for doin' it. He's a tricky guy and he's always calculatin' somethin'.'

            Joker held up his good hand as Soma and Freckles both began to object.

            'I'm not sayin' I don't trust 'im! But I dont think the sun shines outta his ass like you two do, okay? I owe Smile my life, but I gotta admit, I've been side-eyeing him these last few months an' all. All this stuff with Alois, and don't get me started on Black. I gotta wonder what's goin' on, and I can't say I like what I've seen. When Black was a guy we could trust, sure, but now... Drocell might be onto somethin'.'

            Drocell didn't look entirely pleased to be agreed with. A part of him had perhaps been hoping for another explanation. Contrary to popular belief, he didn't _want_ to mistrust his fellow patients. However, if it meant his survival, he couldn't turn a blind eye to the evidence right in front of him.

            Joker's face fell, 'Why would he go _out_ there? He's smarter than that. Only a moron woulda just walked on out in a situation like that.'

            'He's not a moron,' Drocell said, willing to be the villain if they'd finally see sense, 'Which means he was expecting those doors to open. What he wasn't expecting was for Soma to wake up and see him, so he had to make a play of it. But once Soma was shut in the room, he didn't have to delay anymore.'

            'No.' Soma shook his head, even more resolute now than before.

            'You explain it then.' This time, it was Beast. She was frowning, conflicted. There was blood on her mouth from her torn fingernails. 'Why else would he have walked out there, if not because he _knew_ who was opening the doors, _for him._ '

            'No.' Soma couldn't explain it. Explanations that could have worked for someone else -- stupidity, bravery, simple curiosity -- couldn't be applied to Ciel, who took caution in all dangerous situations. But even though he couldn't explain it, not to himself and not to the others, he couldn't agree with Drocell's conclusion. 'You're wrong.'

            But even with his certainty of that, the others had made their judgement.

            In their eyes, Ciel was guilty.

 

 

It was almost noon before the ward door gave its three shrill beeps. By that point, they had all stopped expecting any staff members to show up. It was becoming more common by the day for them to be neglected until evening, and even then, it was a meagre meal and perfunctory check-in before curfew.

            So when the door was unlocked just as morning was ending, a chill ran through them. Never mind that this was how things were supposed to be, and that being left to themselves all day should have been the concerning thing. Even knowing that, they watched the person enter with bated breaths.

            'Who the hell is that?' Dagger muttered, eyeing the strange man as he carefully shut the door behind him.

            The question was more than justified. Not a single one of them had ever seen the man before. In a smart black suit like some sort of office worker, he had snowy white hair, his moustache twitching as he gave them a mild smile. In fact, everything about him was mild, the sort of air to him that calmed the people around him. Naturally, this had the exact opposite effect on the patients, who had long since learned that men like him were the ones to fear.

            Joker rose to his feet, gesturing for the others to stay seated. As the man approached the group, Joker moved to stand before them, blocking his way.

            'Who're you?' Gone was the perpetual grin, the shammed friendliness he usually gave to people he had never met before. In its place, there was only hostility, a predator with its teeth bared. 'Stay where you are.'

            The old man froze, seeming surprised at the less than warm reception. He regained his composure quick enough. The placid little smile made its return.

            'I can only apologize for the poor manner in which this situation has been handled. I understand this must be very hard for you all, and I'm sorry if I alarmed you in any way.' The man inclined his head, as though bowing. 'My name is Tanaka. I am the founder of St. Victoria's.'

            Even without seeing their faces, Joker could feel the fear of everyone behind him intensify. He tried to keep his own fear from his face. The founder of St. Victoria's, this frail looking old man before him, the cause of all their misfortune. It was hard to believe. He looked so... ordinary. Not the monster they had formed in their minds, cruelty given human form.

            Joker steeled himself, teeth gritted. He couldn't let his guard drop just because Tanaka looked unthreatening. He had made that mistake too many times before. Never again.

            'Pleased to meetcha!' Joker summoned up that tired old grin. 'Well, apology accepted. That's all it takes for you people, right? _"Sorry we brutally murdered an innocent kid, whoops!"_ But to think the _founder_ of all people came to apologize to us lowly scum. Now that's an honour right there.'

            'Joker.' Beast put a hand on his arm, glancing warily at Tanaka. She was waiting for the other foot to drop, he could tell. Seeing her so visibly afraid -- someone who had earned her nickname through her ferocity and pride -- only made Joker's temper worse. His head was pulsing, he was hot all over, and that damn itch was creeping its way higher and higher up his arm.

            'No, no!' Joker exclaimed, caution lost to the worsening fever. 'We _should_ be honoured! The founder of this _remarkable_ establishment took the time out of his busy schedule of pen pushin' and kiddy torture to check in on us during a very difficult time. I'm sure Alois would be overjoyed!'

            Beast's grip on his arm tightened; a warning. Jumbo took him by the shoulders, pulling him back. Somewhere during his rant, he had gotten right up in Tanaka's face, but the man didn't flinch away at all.

            'I'm sorry,' Jumbo was saying, 'He's not well right now. He's not himself.'

            Joker shrugged them both off, 'Don't apologize to _him!'_

            It wasn't until Drocell of all people pushed him back onto the couch that Joker began to calm down. His head was spinning, so much so that he had to lean down, eyes scrunched shut. For a while, he was genuinely worried he was going to throw up. To think someone could have such an impact on him, to make him lose his cool with only an introduction.

            No one spoke, not even Tanaka. Only when he was sure he wasn't going to be sick did Joker sit up again, meeting Tanaka's eyes.

            What he found there made all his anger fall away.

            The old man was crying. Tears were falling down his cheeks, a grief Joker couldn't begin to understand in his lined face. There was no shame in him either. He didn't try to hide the tears, nor to wipe them away. Was this a trick? A display of emotion to lull them into a false sense of security? But for all his certainty that the man wasn't to be trusted, Joker couldn't help but believe those tears.

            Voice thick, Tanaka spoke again, but he didn't say anything that Joker was expecting.

            'What happened to your arm?'

            Not long after Joker's return from The Room, Dagger had take it upon himself to tear the right sleeve from all of his tops. Joker appreciated the gesture, though the act of manoeuvring what was left of his arm through the hole was still his least favourite part of the day. Doctor had said it was best for the arm to be uncovered, however, so uncovered it remained. Plain for all to see, and Tanaka couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from it.

            How could he? It wasn't often you got to see the framework of an arm; the discoloured bones, the tired muscles and tendons, the ragged and badly healed lumps of skin. And to see it _move_ , at least a little. Joker had no control over the arm anymore. At first, some control had remained. He could bend the elbow for almost a week following his return. But all that had eroded with the strength of the muscles, leaving the skeletal arm useless, nothing but a grotesque reminder of what had been done to him.

            Tanaka asked what happened, but Joker could scarcely put it into words. His body remembered the agony, his mind remembered the horror, but there was no way to articulate that. Some things just couldn't be reduced to mere words.

            'St. Victoria's happened,' Joker replied, the only answer he could give.

            Tanaka hung his head, the tears falling faster. It seemed, on some level, he had expected those words.

 

 

'We need to keep his temperature down. Don't worry about spilling the water. And Joker, if you need to be sick, that's fine. That's what the bucket is there for. Even if you miss, I'll clean it up, alright?'

            Beast followed Tanaka's instructions, wringing the cloth out over the bowl of freezing water. When she placed it on Joker's head, she could almost feel his relief, the difference between the cool water and his scorching skin so stark.

            Jumbo unwrapped the old bandages Joker always hid the top of his arm in, as per Tanaka's instructions. For all that they wouldn't allow him anywhere near Joker, they followed his word without question, sharing his concern. Jumbo had suspected something wasn't right with Joker for a while, but with everything else going on, he hadn't thought it was this bad.

            The stump was badly swollen, the skin enflamed, with black veins spanning almost to his shoulder. There were scabs the entire way around the arm, and more than half of them had broken, some even oozing.

            Jumbo cringed to see it, running his fingers gently across the overheated skin.

            Joker paid him no mind, staring at Tanaka questioningly.

            'You can't be this stupid,' he said, shaking his head slowly as he slumped further down on the couch, 'You can't expect us to believe you just don't _know._ '

            Tanaka's hands stilled over the meagre supplies he had retrieved from the infirmary. A mess of medicines and cold compresses, all as useless as each other. He hadn't even been able to find any pain killers, more a warning sign than anything.

            'Ignorance is no excuse,' Tanaka said, resuming his search for anything remotely useful amongst the rubbish, 'But it's the truth, I'm afraid. I haven't worked hands-on here in over ten years. I thought I was leaving the running to responsible people, but clearly I was wrong. They didn't even show up to the meeting yesterday...'

            Tanaka shook his head, turning to meet Joker's glare.

            'But that changes now. For a patient to have died while under our care, an enquiry will take place. Tomorrow morning, the police will be here to investigate just what happened to Alois. I understand you're all wary of strangers, and from what I can tell, St. Victoria's is the reason why. But what happened to Alois, and what I can see has been done to you, I need to know the truth --'

            'Police?!' Dagger interrupted, incredulous, 'Are you bein' serious? You're bringin' police _here?!'_

            Tanaka blinked owlishly.

            'Well, of course. Someone died under our care. We need to find out just who is responsible for it. If you all don't mind, the police will want to ask you some questions. I understand that will be intimidating, but the sooner we get to the bottom of what happened, the sooner things can return to normal.'

            'Like proper police, though? Legit ones?' Dagger wouldn't let it go, hanging over the back of his chair, 'An' they're gonna be lookin' around the whole buildin'?'

            Beast kicked him in the shin, shaking her head pointedly.

            'The _whole_ building?' Tanaka looked puzzled. 'Well, certainly the areas that are relevant to Alois' case, yes --'

            This time it was Wendy.

            'It's not just Alois,' she said, hands fisting the material of her pants, 'Alois isn't the only one they took.'

            Tanaka put down the packet of paracetamol. With caution, as though not to frighten them, he approached the seating area and took a vacant chair a distance away. For all that he wasn't afraid to face the problems clearly going on in St. Victoria's, he was visibly on edge to hear what Wendy had to say.

            'They... _took?_ Can I ask what you mean by that?' His voice was coaxing, a gentle request. He was nothing but gentle with them, too aware that they were more fragile than any children he had dealt with so far. They were like that because of St. Victoria's. Because of him.

            'Wendy.' Beast tried to stop her, but it was a half-hearted attempt. Any other person and she would be firm in her resolve, that they reveal nothing, say nothing, play pretend like they had always had to do. But Tanaka was swaying her and that was terrifying in and of itself. What if it wasn't genuine? What if this was some new ploy, a new method of cruelty? She wanted to believe in the gentle old man who cried for them, but trust had been stripped from her heart years ago. It was too hard to trust now. The risks were too high.

            Wendy hesitated for a moment, looking to Beast. Beneath her hands, Joker was barely managing to keep his eyes open, the infection in his blood now. Because of what they had done to him in The Room. Because he had gone to find Peter.

            Wendy met Beast's eyes and shook her head. She had kept silent for long enough.

            'There have been far more than Alois,' she affirmed, sounding years older than she looked. For all that she had the appearance of a child, she was possibly the oldest of them all. She was now, without Peter. 'The only difference is that Alois couldn't be covered up, not with the way he was killed. But the others were made to disappear. Would you like to know their names?'

            The question was barbed. An accusation.

            Tanaka didn't back down, accepting the responsibility of that accusation.

            'Please,' he implored, 'Tell me them all.'

            'Peter. Grimsby. Irene. Carl. Patrick. Lau. Ran-Mao. George.' Wendy paused for breath, searching Tanaka's face. The man was hiding nothing. He wore his horror, plain for them all to see. 'And they're only from _my_ time here. Jumbo, you were here before me. Have I missed any names?'

            Jumbo looked up from tending to Joker, stricken.

            'I... was only here a short while before several of the patients were taken. I didn't know them particularly well, but... there was a little girl with dark hair. They did something to her feet, it left her in agony. She was taken to the infirmary and she never came back.' Jumbo's time before Joker's arrival was something he didn't think about often. With Joker had come camaraderie, patients banding together, a sense of hope amidst the gloom of life at the institute. But before that, it was every person for themselves, to the point that Jumbo couldn't even remember that little girl's name.

            But someone else could.

            'Sieglinde.' Snake spoke up for the first time since Tanaka had arrived. He wouldn't meet anyone's eyes. 'She... liked being in the garden. She said she knew all the types of flowers but she always got them wrong. She was nice.'

            Drocell took hold of Snake's hand, giving a comforting squeeze.

            'After her, Maurice went. He... wasn't very nice. But he didn't deserve...' Snake scratched at the patchy skin of his cheek, a touch too hard, leaving behind a nasty red line. 'Then McMillan. He was friendly, at first. Then he just got quiet. After him, it was a while, but then four went all at once.'

            'I remember that,' Jumbo said, softly. Snake finally looked up and Jumbo nodded to him. 'What were their names? I spoke sometimes with Herman, but not the others.'

            For once, Snake didn't panic at being directly addressed. It seemed the topic was serious enough to take precedence even over his anxiety. He managed to maintain eye contact, though his grip on Drocell's hand bordered on painful.

            'Edgar. Lawrence. Gregory,' Snake supplied, 'It was after they went that new people came in.'

            'The ones Wendy was talking about,' Jumbo clarified for Tanaka, 'Before them, god only knows who. The only one of us who'd know would be...'

            Jumbo stopped himself, looking around at the others. None of them seemed sure how much they should say about Ciel either, considering his disappearing act.

            'My point is, Alois is far from the first death we've seen,' Wendy said, thankfully pulling the conversation back around, 'So why is it the first one you care about?'

            Even the other patients looked at her in surprise. It had been a long time since any of them had heard her talk so expressively. She had never been the same after Peter. Now, it seemed, some of that old poise was making its return. Even if anger was the driving factor behind it, she was nothing but self-possessed.

            Tanaka didn't answer. Looking every year his age, he slowly put his head in his hands, the weight of  a dozen names crushing down on his back. They heard him muttering softly to himself, muffled through his fingers. Even Wendy didn't push him further when she realized just what it was he was saying.

            _'Peter. Grimsby. Irene. Carl. Patrick. Lau. Ran-Mao. George. Sieglinde. Maurice. McMillan. Herman. Edgar. Laurence. Gregory. Alois.'_

The names Tanaka had only known on paper. The names of the children he had once again failed. He repeated them until their names no longer felt like strangers to his tongue. He committed them to memory, to his ever-growing list of regrets.

            When Tanaka sat up again, he looked at Joker and wondered if that name would too be joining his list.

            'Tell me what happ --' Tanaka stopped himself, breathing deep, 'No. Tell me what they did to you.'

 

 

Beast wrung out the cloth again, luke-warm water tinged with blood and pus. There was nothing they alone could do about the infection spreading, but following Tanaka's instructions, she had cleaned the cuts Joker had given himself when scratching. It didn't look good, but it certainly looked better, some of the inflammation going down.

            Joker was with it enough to cool his own temperature now, holding a clean cloth against his forehead. His eyes had cleared of the haze from before, his cheeks no longer flushed. He still felt rotten, but it was better than it had been for the last few days.

            His stomach was even starting to growl.

            'Wonder what the guy's gonna make,' he mused out loud, 'Gonna make 'im try it first, o'course.'

            'Reckon the geezer can cook?' Dagger rocked uneasily on the edge of the sofa, eyeing the ward door with impatience, 'Poisoned or not, I'd eat anythin' at this point.'

            The atmosphere had calmed somewhat in the last hour. They had shared to an extent, but they had not hidden from Tanaka that they kept much more back than they had given. The thought was at the forefront of all their minds; _This is a test._ And if it was a test, they had failed by saying anything at all. The only thing that mattered now was what their punishment would entail.

            Those tears, though. Joker couldn't help but believe in those tears.

            They had kept it basic. The descriptions of their treatments were kept vague, though the detail they had given had been enough to drive Tanaka to the bathroom at one point, a muted retching through the walls. They had been more in detail about the general conditions; their isolation from the outside world, their restricted time outside of the ward, meagre meals and unsanitary conditions. Anything that did not implicate a person, they were unreserved in discussing.

            But that wasn't what Tanaka was interested in. He could see the general conditions for himself and was disgusted. But it was the _people_ he was interested in. The men and women he himself had hired, had allowed near vulnerable people, and who had abused their status to treat the people they were supposed to be protecting as subhuman.

            He had become insistent, then. Pushed them for names, for the dirty details.

            But the patients wouldn't be fooled. No names. No accusations. Nothing that they could be punished for.

            And yet, Joker believed in those tears. So he had given Tanaka _something._

            Joker's right arm. Beast's left leg. Dagger's right leg. Jumbo's back. Wendy's stomach. A show of scars, for Tanaka's eyes only. Wordless proof of what Tanaka already knew.

            Seeing this proof, Joker had expected the man to cry again. A part of him wanted that, _needed_ that visible compassion to put any trust in him. But Tanaka had not cried. He had stared, long and hard, and then said, 'You're all so thin.'

            Disappointed probably wasn't the right word. At least, Joker hoped he wasn't disappointed. Being disappointed would imply he had been expecting something in the first place. He knew better than that, to expect anything from anyone.

            'Forget the food!' Drocell snapped, pacing a circuit around the room. Even Snake wasn't bothering to stop him. 'We shouldn't have said _anything_ to him. You really think he's gone off to cook us a nice dinner? He's gone to tell them everything we said.'

            'Maybe.' Jumbo rubbed at his eyes. 'Or maybe he's cooking us dinner. There's nothing we can do either way.'

            'Yes, there is,' Drocell said, coming to a stop. Everyone but Soma looked to him, all varying degrees of sceptical. The day had been long, hard on them all.

            'Drocell, just... sit down, will ya?' Freckles gestured at the couch. 'We ain't mind readers, y'know. I don't trust the old guy either but... we could be dealin' with worse guys. You saw his face when he first got a look at Joker. I dunno, I don't think he was fakin' that.'

            Drocell surprised them all with his response, 'Nor do I.'

            'Eh?'

            'What, you believe 'im? _You?_ ' Dagger laughed.

            'I believe he's a pen-pusher whose only claim to St. Victoria's is in name and money,' Drocell reasoned, easily ignoring Dagger's mocking tone, 'And I believe that Alois' death really is the first he's heard of something going wrong here. But I _don't_ believe that makes him innocent, and I _don't_ believe that means we should trust him.'

            'He doesn't claim to be innocent,' Jumbo reminded them, playing devil's advocate, 'He said himself, _ignorance isn't innocence._ '

            'I believe his claims of ignorance. But I don't think that we should be letting our guards down as though his ignorance to all of this makes him safe for us.' Drocell looked around at them all. 'We'll never be safe here. All this means is that _he_ is as much a target as we are. And if it comes down to it, I don't think we should put ourselves at risk for his sake.'

            'What're you talkin' about?' Dagger ran a hand through his hair, looking to the others in confusion. 'What make-believe scenario you got goin' on in your head? Coz from where I'm sittin', the biggest risk we're facin' from 'im right now is whether we're gonna get salmonella or sumthin'.'

            Dagger may have been in the dark, but Beast was a few steps ahead of where Drocell was going.

            'It wouldn't work and it would put us in a worse situation than we are now,' Beast stated, shaking her head. She ignored the confused looks she received, meeting Drocell's resolute stare. 'We wouldn't even get out of the building before they got us.'

            'They wouldn't know to look for us,' Drocell replied firmly, 'It's a frightening prospect but is it any more frightening than what we're already facing?'

            'Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow it down for the rest of us,' Joker interrupted, 'What wouldn't work?'

            Beast and Drocell remained silent for a moment, neither wanting to be the one to say it. But Beast was never one to ignore Joker.

           'I noticed it, and I noticed Drocell notice it, as well,' she began, folding her arms across her chest, 'Tanaka, he... wears his keycard on his belt.'

            Joker's eyes widened.

            'No.'

            'Just consider it,' Drocell implored, frustration peaking, 'I'm not saying we hurt him. We outnumber him. Even in the states we're in, we're stronger. We take the keycard and lock him in here. Someone will come let him out eventually, and by that point, we'll be long go --'

            'Where?' Jumbo rubbed his hand over his face. 'We'll be long gone _where?_ We have no place to go to. No one to help us. Tanaka said himself, the police will be here in the morning. If we make a run for it, we're only making ourselves look bad in their eyes. They could be the ones to help us.'

            'I don't know about that,' Beast disagreed, 'I don't trust this police thing either. They could easily be in the institute's pocket. I just don't think attacking Tanaka would be worth the consequences we _will_ end up with. None of us are in any states to be doing a runner, Drocell. We'd be lucky to get to the gates. Then what? Joker can't climb it. Even if we got past the wall, we wouldn't know where to go. God knows how far from London we are. None of this is worth the risks.'

            'Agreed,' Joker said, nodding, 'Drocell, we're all as scared as you are, but we can't go rushin' into somethin' like this half-cocked. It'll only end bad. I say we wait it out 'til mornin', see how this police thing plays out, yeah?'

            The others all murmured agreements, falling behind Joker's judgement as always.

            Drocell grimaced, 'Snake, what about you? You agree with me, right?'

            Snake jumped at being addressed so suddenly, looking like a deer caught in headlights. He was far from a deciding factor in the already finished argument, yet he panicked at being pushed to make a decision, scratching at his cheek once more. He didn't draw blood but the skin began to flake, only highlighting its unusual texture.

            'I... ' He dropped his eyes to the carpet. 'I don't...'

            Drocell's face fell, but there was little more to argue about, when even the sole person always on his side couldn't agree with him. Disheartened and once more relegated to the villain role, he sank down into his seat, lapsing into silence.

 

 

They smelt the food before they saw it. They couldn't remember the last time they had been presented with something so appetising. Generous portions of vegetable stew, with slices of soft white bread on the side, a small square of butter each. Steam rose from the plates, the meal scorching hot. By the time they were usually fed, they were lucky if the food hadn't gone stale. But that wasn't the case here, everything fresh and hot, made especially for them.

            It was hard to resist digging right in.

            There was quiet for a moment after they were given their plates and Tanaka stepped back, no one moving to take a bite. Then, without having to be asked, he moved from person to person, plate to plate, taking a single spoonful of each meal. He even wiped the spoons afterwards, a crisp white handkerchief tucked into his chest pocket.

            'A bit weak on the salt, I'm afraid,' was all he had to say with an apologetic smile.

            Since he didn't seem to be dropping dead right then and there, everybody tucked in. Or at least, nearly everybody.

            Soma had said nothing since that morning. His plate rested on the arm of the chair. He stirred the broth absently, spoon clinking against the sides. For all that he hadn't eaten a proper meal in days, longer depending on your definition of meal, his stomach clenched at the prospect of trying to eat.

            The seat next to him was empty and that fact stole his appetite away.

            Soma wanted Ciel to be sat next to him, picking at his food like the fussy-eater he would never admit to being. Soma wanted Alois to be there too, making little jabs about it, _no dessert if you don't eat dinner_. Soma wanted Joker to be loud and laughing, not slipping down in his seat from a fever they could barely keep at bay. Soma wanted Drocell to stop being the most scared of them all, hiding behind a double-edged logic.

            More than anything, Soma wanted Agni to come, to answer all his questions and tell him what was really going on.

            But the seat next to him was empty, and Agni hadn't answered honestly in months.

            While Soma's food went cold, the others cleaned their plates. Dagger looked ready to be sick, having eaten so quickly. His hunger had had more of an edge than the others'. He had been giving most of his food to Beast, pretending to have eaten his fill.

            Tanaka cleared away the plates, pausing in front of Soma.

            'I'm sorry, didn't you like it? I can make you something else.'

            Soma stared up at him, seeing nothing but a grandfatherly old man.

            'Where's Ciel?'

            Soma could feel the others shooting him sharp looks, Joker whispering his name, but he ignored them. They could believe the worst if they wanted to. He knew better than to think Ciel would just leave them behind.

            Exasperation built in Joker and it was all he could do not to toss the dirty rag at Soma's face. The question was asked now, though, so little good it would do. So much for not giving Tanaka any more than they needed to.

            Still.

            Joker watched Tanaka's face, searching in those expressive eyes for a hint of something, anything. The food hadn't been poisoned, the tears had been real, he had even thrown up when hearing the most minor of the cruelties they had been subjected to. He had proven himself to be an honest man, or at least good at pretending to be one.

            This would decide which was true. Depending on Tanaka's answer, Joker would decide whether or not to take the risk and trust him.

             Tanaka crouched down with some difficulty, his bones creaking at the effort. On the same level as Soma now, he replied, 'I... don't know. I was already considering putting the ward on lock-down, but after finding out a patient went missing in the night... I should have done it sooner, while Ciel was still safe. I'm so sorry.'

            Soma's bottom lip began to tremble, eyes burning. He hung his head, pulling his knees up to his chest. He said no more after that. There was no more he could say.

            'But we _will_ find him. _I_ will find him. That I promise you.' Impassioned, Tanaka stood, addressing everybody now. He looked at each of them, heart worn so openly on his sleeve. It was difficult not to be pulled in by his sincerity. 'I don't know what happened here in my absence, but I'm going to find out, and they are going to be held responsible for every last thing they've done. This should have been a safe haven for you all. That was the least of what you deserved. I _will_ give it to you, if it's the last thing I do.'

            Tanaka's gaze dropped, despondent.

            'I don't expect you to trust me. St. Victoria's has destroyed your ability to trust and I hold myself responsible for that. You and the children before you were under my care and I've failed you. All of you.' His voice shook. They were swayed, every last one of them, swept along by the strength of Tanaka's remorse. 'All I can do is try to make things right, as much as I can.'

            'And how do you intend to do that?' There was no anger in Joker's question. He wasn't mocking Tanaka or accusing him. He genuinely wanted to know. Despite himself, there may have even been some hope in his words. 'After everythin'... how're you gonna fix this?'

            Tanaka stood up straight, 'First by finding the person responsible for Alois' death and ensuring justice is done. And the same for all the other children before you. Ciel will be found. I've informed the police and the search will begin in the morning. They'll also do a full investigation of St. Victoria's, from head to bottom. Any hint of misconduct will be investigated, culprits found and punished. These things I can guarantee, beginning tomorrow.'

            Tanaka took a step towards Joker, kneeling down before him as he had done for Soma.

            'And after that, I will do everything I can to right the wrongs done towards you all. Joker, you'll be taken to a real hospital and given the treatment you should have received when you were first harmed. Whatever can be done to mend your arm, no matter what the cost, _will_ be done.'

            Tanaka didn't stand this time, staying on his knees below them all.

            'This place holds too many bad memories for you all. You won't be forced to stay. But I will personally see to it that you receive the help you all need, psychologically, physically and financially, to begin building lives for yourselves outside of St. Victoria's. You need never be afraid for your safety again, that I can promise you all.'

            It was too good to believe. The picture he painted, that hope-filled future, offered so freely. It was only too easy for them to imagine it. All they had done for their stolen years was imagine that freedom. And now it was here, and they need only give one thing in exchange for it.

            The patients all looked to Joker, eyes bright with a hope they hardly dared to let themselves feel, and he felt it too. He felt it so intensely it hurt.

            'Tanaka, we --'

            But before Joker could answer, a shrill sound pierced the air, one that the patients had never heard before in all their varying years at the institute.

            The colour bled from Tanaka's face.

            A siren screamed, and the ward door opened.

            For a long moment, no one dared even breathe. Time stood still as they looked through the empty doorway in disbelief, the cry of the lock system failing. Then Tanaka moved, blocking their freedom with his arms stretched wide. There was fear in his eyes.

            'Stay calm,' he implored them, 'I don't know what's happened to the locks system, but I guarantee, the ward is the safest place for you all right now. The police won't arrive until morning. Until then, whoever killed Alois and the others is free to do more harm. I know you're all frightened, but --'

            Drocell strode forward, purposeful.

            'Move,' he demanded with an expression of steel.

            'D-Drocell.' Snake hesitated to follow. He exuded uneasiness, feeling the change in the atmosphere more so than the others. He had seen Drocell's growing hysteria over the last few months first-hand. He wasn't sure what Drocell would do, but he knew that one way or another, if he wanted to get through the door then he would.

            'Hey, hey, let's relax, yeah!' Joker struggled to his feet, the world tipping beneath him a bit. Beast was quick to steady him, watching Drocell apprehensively. 'You said this mornin' you wouldn't go wanderin' off the ward if somethin' like this happened. Why the change of heart? Tanaka's got a point. Whoever did this to Alois --'

            'Could easily overpower an old man!' Drocell barked, cringing along with the rest of them as the siren began to grate. Noises could have a powerful impact on state of mind, and this noise was doing nothing good for Drocell's. He rubbed at his ear, a painful pulsing starting up. 'Maybe he's genuine. Maybe he means everything he says and he's going to give us all our fairy-tale ending. _Or_ this is another play. Would you put it past them? It's not the first time they've let us think we'd have a way out!'

            As quickly as it had brightened, the atmosphere once more turned dark. They each thought back to those moments of shattered hope. A promise of a trip beyond the gates, hints of their imminent release, only ever used to make the subsequent treatments all the more painful. As they recalled those times, whatever hope that had been growing in their hearts because of Tanaka's words shrivelled down to nothing.

            Joker looked around at his friends, seeing the moment their decision was made.

            His heart sank.

            'Let's just... relax, yeah? We're all gettin' a bit stir crazy here, tempers short an' all --'

            'Joker, c'mon.' Dagger looked hungrily at the open door. 'This... it's our best shot.'

            'We... can't trust that he's telling the truth,' Wendy agreed, somewhat reluctantly, 'They've lied before and they'll lie again. We can't risk everything on his word.'

            Even Jumbo gave a silent nod, albeit not meeting Joker's eyes.

            'Beast?' Joker looked to her, turning cold.

            Her hand tightened around his good arm, steadying herself as much as she was him.

            'We just,' she whispered, brows knitted, 'We just don't know if he can do the things he's saying. What if we stay and it turns out to be a lie, Joker? What will we do then?'

            Only Freckles, Soma and Snake remained silent, watching the argument without a side. As for Freckles, she would follow wherever Joker decided to lead them, no matter how tempting the thought of running through that door was. Tempting, but equally as terrifying. With the siren's scream around her, she could only picture disaster, but then, that was surely all that awaited them on the ward as well.

            Joker gritted his teeth, shaking his head forcefully.

            'C'mon, guys, what're you sayin'? Even if we walk outta here, there's no guarantee we'll get out the front door, y'know!' he cried in frustration, 'The door's open but're you lot not spooked by that siren? You think anythin' good's waitin' out there with that thing wailin' on?'

            'I'll take my chances out there,' Drocell replied, unmoved. He turned back to the silent Tanaka, 'Out of the way. You heard us. We've made our choice.'

            Tanaka dropped his arms but didn't step out of the doorway.

            'Please, Drocell,' he said, beseechingly, 'Give me the chance to _prove_ you can trust me.'

            'Yeah!' Joker shook off Beast's hand, staggering over to stand between the two. 'Look, the police'll be here tomorrow, right? We can --'

            'So he claims.' Drocell shrugged dismissively. 'He can prove himself by not sending them after us, if he's so keen to earn our trust. If he does that, we can get in touch with him and he can make good on the rest of his promises.'

            'Sounds fair to me,' Wendy mused, inching closer to Drocell and the door.

            'Oh, right,' Joker sneered, 'The police show up to all the patients havin' made a jail-break and Tanaka's supposed to just tell 'em not to worry about it, he's sure we're fine? _Bullshit_ \--'

            'Whose side are you on?!' Whatever facsimile of patience Drocell had tried adopting, it broke then, his hysteria leaking through. His voice was high, taut with panic. 'You're nothing but talk! You think you're protecting anyone? Look at us!'

            Frightened, scarred, hopeless. Joker's friends, his family, always looking to him with nothing but trust. Trust that he would keep them safe, trust that he would one day save them from this place. A trust he had desperately pulled from them, needing that validation in his own existence, even when he knew he could never make good on the promises he was making.

            Peter had looked at Joker with those trusting eyes, even when those eyes had seen so many more years than Joker had. And where had that trust gotten Peter? Stolen away without even a goodbye, no body and no closure to put him at rest.

            Because of adults like Tanaka.

            Because Joker had chosen to put faith in adults like Tanaka.

            'You're a _coward_ ,' Drocell hissed. He was shaking all over, whether from fear or rage, even he couldn't tell. 'Peter died because you made him believe you could protect him. Ciel had to go save you, and it's a miracle he didn't end up the same way as Peter. And you saw just as well as the rest of us what was happening to Alois, but did you do anything? _No._ Stop pretending you have any more right to make these decisions than the rest of us do. You don't get to have that sort of power over us. You've let too many of us die, all because you --'

            It was as though Drocell was pulling the words straight from Joker's mind. Those hateful little thoughts were given voice, laid out clear as day for everyone to hear, and it was too much. To hear them out loud, to know others were thinking it too, to see their dismay. _It was too much._

            'Shut the fuck up!' Joker launched himself at Drocell, the both of them crashing to the ground. It could hardly be called a fight when Joker could barely keep himself upright and Drocell had no intention of raising his hand against the other, but there was a half-hearted scuffle on the floor before Joker was bodily lifted off of Drocell, neither all that worse for wear.

            Joker panted raggedly in Tanaka's grip, scowling down at Drocell.

            Drocell just shook his head.

            'How many more of us need to die for you to see sense?' Drocell asked softly, the anger gone from him. In its place, there was only a cold logic. 'Someone like him can't be trusted. The stakes are too high.'

            Joker looked around, seeing Drocell's words reflected in the faces of his friends.

            He felt hollow, but he knew what he had to do.

            He couldn't bear for any more blood to be on his hands.

            'Tanaka,' Joker turned in the old man's arms, steadying himself as he faced him, 'I'm sorry.'

            Tanaka didn't argue, or plead, or even fight against them. He simply lowered his head. Of all the things Joker had expected to see in his eyes, understanding was the last thing he had wanted.

            'No,' Tanaka said as Joker lay his good hand atop his head, ' _I'm_ sorry.'

            Before he could change his mind, Joker moved quickly to the side, smashing Tanaka's head into the wall. The old man went limp, his breathing steady. Although blood began to trickle down the side of his face, something like that wouldn't kill him, but it would buy them enough time to make it out of the building.

            Jumbo lifted Tanaka up into his arms, leaving him to lie on the couch.

            'Satisfied?' Joker couldn't look at Drocell. He couldn't look at anyone right then, shame a bitter tang in his mouth.

            The siren continued its shriek.

            With no one to stop them, the patients moved forward, making their escape from the ward that had been their home and their prison for too many years.


	32. Chapter 29 (Part 3: Ciel)

'There'll be time in the gardens scheduled for the weekend,' Agni said haltingly, staring ahead as he led Ciel back from the visitor's room, 'The weather is taking a turn for the worse, so no one was really expecting to use that time, but... well, I'm on duty that day. It won't be proper, but we could do something small. A service, of some sort. For him.'

            Ciel could see why Soma was so fond of Agni. That sort of pointless tenderness reflected Soma's own. A service for Alois in a frost-encrusted garden, a bodiless funeral without a single flower or song. A sham of a goodbye, exactly the sort one would expect from St. Victoria's.

            'Mm. That'd be nice,' Ciel replied blandly, watching the ward door draw nearer and nearer.

            It didn't matter. He'd be long gone by the weekend.

            Leaving Sebastian behind and returning to the ward was harder than Ciel would have thought. He couldn't shake the feeling that they had made a misstep by committing their plan to words. Leaving Sebastian behind, no longer in his line of sight, and the feeling was amplified. Paranoia was natural given what they were intending to do, but he hadn't expected it to be so immediate.

            No one could have heard. They had been alone in the room, speaking only a breath apart, and there were no cameras in the institute. Their secret was safe. Yet Ciel felt unease wash over him, a sickening chill.

            'You're not coming in?' Ciel asked as Agni opened the door for him, making no move to follow him inside.

            'No.' Agni glanced within at the solemn group of patients. From where they stood outside, the room seemed swarmed by an oppressive grey. All the colour had been leeched away by that morning's discovery. Even Soma, ever bright, faded into the dullness. 'I... think you all need some time to yourselves today.'

            With a curt goodbye, Ciel stepped inside the ward, the door swinging shut behind him. Feeling the gust of air sweep past his ankles, hearing the slow clanking slide of the locks, he considered the fact that it may well be the last time he would enter the ward like this.

            It wasn't something he would miss.

            _What will I need?_ Giving Soma a brief nod as he crossed the room, Ciel assessed his few belongings. His mental inventory was barren of practical things. Books, toys, pointless trinkets. They'd be beyond useless in escaping St. Victoria's. Unless the chain of Sebastian's pocket watch could somehow pick a lock, it looked like he would be taking only the clothes on his back.

            Ciel paused at his bedroom door.

            Well, and one more thing. Just as useless as the rest, but he wouldn't feel right leaving it behind for others to see. The things Alois had written in his journal, as indecipherable as they were, deserved to be safe from any more prying eyes. There may not be a body to lay to rest, but once they had safely made it away from St. Victoria's, Ciel could at least give Alois' troubled thoughts the burial they deserved.

            _Stupid. What difference does putting a bunch of scribbles in the ground make?_

            Clearly all the difference, if he was considering it. He couldn't even pretend there was a point to it. It was sentiment, pure and simple.

            When had he become so soft?

            Even as he thought that, he found himself backing away from his bedroom. The group on the sofas were quiet, biting the bullet for the sake of normalcy. It was oddly uncomfortable to see them so... flat. What conversation was going on was forced. For whose benefit, Ciel wasn't sure, since there was no one but them on the ward. They should have been saving what little energy they had until they had an audience. Unless this show wasn't for the staff, but for the patients themselves.

            Ciel could understand that. He didn't like it, but he could understand it.

            He took a seat between Soma and Snake. Drocell was missing, and he was glad for it. Drocell's accusations had been tiring enough before, but now they hit rather too close to home. It was a silly thought, but Ciel wondered if Drocell would be able to tell. Just from looking at Ciel, would he see his suspicions becoming true?

            Ciel dismissed the thought, growing annoyed with himself. Where was this baseless paranoia coming from? It was unlike him. If he wasn't careful, it could lead to missteps, could ruin everything. He needed to calm down. He needed to maintain normality.

            'Where's Joker?' Ciel addressed Jumbo, the most likely to know.

            'In his room. He's not feeling too great,' Jumbo replied. 'I've been thinking -- I ran it by Joker before and he seemed to think it was a good idea -- maybe we should sleep in pairs from now on. It might mean some of us sleeping on the floor but I think it's wise for the time being.'

            It was a struggle to keep the frown from his face. The prospect of sharing his room would have been displeasing enough on its own, but with that night's plan, it took on an entirely different angle of nuisance.

            _Normality._ But Ciel would have kicked up a fuss about it normally anyway. _No added attention._ The last thing he needed to be doing was attracting more attention than necessary. _Get in there first._ He couldn't deny Jumbo's logic without starting an argument, but he could choose the lesser evil.

            'Mm, sounds wise. You with me?' Ciel turned to Soma, nothing but casual. Soma slept like a log and wouldn't try to take his bed. Win, win.

            There was a noticeable pause before Soma agreed with a glowing grin. Normally Soma would have been ecstatic for the slightest show of friendship from Ciel. He was still pale from the morning, eyes red-rimmed, distant. Finding Alois had hit him hard, so Ciel didn't take that pause personally, turning to address Snake.

            As glad as he was for Drocell's absence, it also made him uncomfortable. If they'd both been absent, it would have been fine, but for Snake to have braved the leisure room alone, something wasn't right there.

            Ciel had barely opened his mouth before Soma bumped against his shoulder.

            'So who was the visitor?' he asked, voice low.

            Ciel bit back a sigh. Not turning to face Soma fully, he gave the answer he had prepared before coming back to the ward.

            'My Aunt. They were trying to send her away -- she didn't call in advance, as usual -- but Agni got me half an hour with her. Tell him thanks for me, by the way.' Enough detail to give the lie life, with the subtle distraction at the end. Now Soma would start rambling about Agni, scolding Ciel for not saying thank you himself, and --

            'Oh?' Soma cocked his head. 'What's the latest? She's pregnant, right?'

            Ciel almost scowled at Soma for not following his mental script. He didn't usually press for details when it came to Ciel's visits, knowing better than to pry. What details had Ciel given him in the past? He had to be careful not to repeat the same thing. For all that people thought Soma was stupid, and to a certain degree Soma liked to encourage that misconception, he was actually very perceptive when it came to some things.

            _Stop it._ Ciel ended that train of thought. _He's not trying to catch you out._

            'Yeah, and showing. I think she's... six months gone? I got an earful about that, but she was more concerned with the wedding.' Ciel cast his mind back to Ann's last visit and pulled his answer from there, even as the meeting with Sebastian was fresher in his memories.

            'Wedding?' Maybe it was Ciel's paranoia casting a shade over his perception that day, but he felt something off in the way Soma was looking at him. He didn't like that blankness. From the others, he expected it, but not from Soma. 'I thought she already got married earlier in the year.'

            _He knows I'm lying._

            A stupid thought. There was no way for him to know.

            _But he does. And if he knows, who else?_

            'Not her wedding. My cousin's. It's sometime this month,' Ciel replied shortly, a firm end to the conversation. If nothing else, that was very much himself. He had felt his footing becoming slippery in that conversation, so backing out was the best thing to do. Even so, maybe that had only made him appear stranger to Soma?

            It was ridiculous. There was no way for Soma to know he had met with Sebastian, never mind what they had spoken about. Yet he had seen real distrust in Soma's eyes. Or had he? Was he just seeing what he expected to see? Nothing Soma had said was odd. Just small talk. Was he projecting his own panic onto Soma, or rather, his guilt?

            If everything went according to plan, Ciel would escape St. Victoria's that night. The rest of the patients would wake up, still in captivity, still vulnerable to the worsening threat bearing down upon them. Ciel could intend to send help back for them all he wanted, but it didn't change the fact of what he was doing.

            For his own sake, Ciel was abandoning them all.

 

 

It was far later than Ciel expected when he finally heard his bedroom door unlock. Waiting in the dark, listening to Soma snore on the floor, his anxiety had ample time to overshadow all else. That paranoia he had been feeding all day was a third person in the room. As the moon became starker in the sky yet no sounds came from the ward, It spoke to him. All the niggling thoughts, all the pitfalls in their plan, It whispered them in his ear maliciously.

            _He's not coming._

_He's been caught._

_He's left without you._

_They know._

            And It didn't just echo his worries. It was a spiteful little thing, knowing just which wounds to salt.

            Ciel was ruthless, even when it came to himself.

            _They'll be dead before help comes, or worse._

Alois was a fluke. It wasn't in the staff's repertoire to simply kill. Besides, Ciel was hardly a shield for everyone to hide behind. If they were going to be hurt or killed, it would happen whether he was there or not.

_You could take them with you, if you really wanted to._

            Because a group of eleven people, ten in matching clothes, skulking around the countryside in the dead of night wasn't at all cause for alarm. Very inconspicuous.

            _They'll worry for you. They might do something stupid for your sake._

Entirely their own problem. Between Drocell's less than favourable outlook towards him and Joker's willingness to butt heads, Ciel couldn't imagine them organizing themselves into anything more than a fist fight. Besides, Joker surely knew better after losing most of his arm for Peter.

            _You'll never forgive yourself._

            He already couldn't.

            The sound of his door unlocking was a welcome escape from It, and himself.

            Through the dark of the room, Ciel crept. What little light spilled in from the high window barely lit the way, not helped by his halved sight. Of all the things to trip over, it was the one he was most avoiding that almost sent him flying.

            'Shi --!' Ciel bit down hard, catching himself on the corner of the desk.

            Silence. Hope that Soma slept through the boot to his shoulder.

            'Owwwwww.' Soma gave a long whine, the quilt rustling as he rolled onto his side. Ciel couldn't tell no matter how much he squinted, but it seemed like Soma didn't even open his eyes, settling back down to sleep.

            Ciel gave it a minute.

            Everything was still.

            So he continued towards the door. The question was already burning on the tip of his tongue, _what the hell took you so long,_ a helpless sort of anger heavy in his chest that only Sebastian was around the bear the brunt of. That anger listened to Soma's restless shifting behind him, wishing he'd go back to sleep, hoping he'd wake up, knowing both were as bad as the other.

            Ciel opened his door slowly, ready to hiss that question, only to find that there was no one there to hear it.

            The ward was bathed in black. Even without trying to see, Ciel could feel that nobody was there. The chairs were empty, all the other bedrooms locked, and even the ward door was shut.

            Ciel's palms grew damp around the door handle.

            He stepped into the ward, not believing his own instinct. Someone _had_ to be there to have opened his door. It couldn't have opened by itself.

            Once curfew began, the doors could only be unlocked by the skeleton key. Only Ash and Angela had it. But the ward had been silent all night, not a footstep or a whisper to be heard. So if Ash hadn't been on the ward as usual, then Sebastian couldn't have taken his key and let Ciel out.

            Ciel's blood ran cold.

            Sebastian hadn't opened his door.

            'Ciiiiiel, what're you doin'? If _you're_ not using the bed, then --'

            'Shh!'

            No sooner had the sound left his lips did three beeps resound across the ward. Independent of any force, the ward door swung open. The darkness was diluted as a dim light flickered to life far down the empty corridor. No one stood at the electronic panel with their keycard at hand. No backs disappeared through the door to the stairwell. No footsteps to be heard at all. Even though the door had only just opened, there was no one there who could have opened it, yet no time for them to have made their exit.

            'Ciel.' Soma's voice was sharp, not a hint of lingering sleep. 'Come back in.'

            Ciel hadn't realized how far he had strayed from his bedroom door. He needed to go back to his room. The rooms were safe. The rooms were off limits. And yet he stepped further into the ward, searching for someone, _anyone._ Whoever was doing this had to be there. They just _had_ to be.

            'Ciel,' Soma repeated, more insistent. His voice sounded louder now.

            'Soma, it's fine.' Ciel turned back around. Soma was halfway out of the door, reaching for him shakily. Even in the dark, Ciel could see how scared he was. He waved his hand, gesturing him back inside. 'Stay there.'

            Soma didn't get to make a choice either way. With a struggling creak, the bedroom door began to swing shut all by itself.

            Ciel's heart stopped.

            _Not out here._

            He ran for the door.

            _Don't leave me out here._

            Soma had lunged for the handle, fighting against the pull, but it was useless. Even as he put all his weight into dragging it the other way, the door closed over, the lock clicking into place just as Ciel reached out for it.

            He forgot how to breathe.

            Soma beat on the door, the heavy reverberations rumbling against Ciel's fingers. He was screaming, choking out Ciel's name, smashing his fists against the wood. But all that carried through was the trembling aftershock. He had no hope of opening the door, and Ciel had no hope of getting back inside the safety of the room.

            'I - I'm fine,' Ciel forced out, sounding strange even to himself, 'Don't panic.'

            Unable to bear the sensation against his fingers any more, Ciel backed away from the door. His shadow became starker against the wall and he turned to look over his shoulder, through the ward door. The light out there was no longer quite as dim. Another fluorescent row had blinked to life, casting the ward into a deeper darkness.

            Ciel recognized an invitation when he saw one.

            'Stay there, promise!' Ciel ignored the plea, drifting further and further from his bedroom. If the choice was stay on the ward and wait for god knows what to happen, or follow the lit path and find its source, it was really no choice at all. 'No, no, don't go looking, just stay there!'

            Because the person on the other end of those lights had more power over the patient's freedom than even the skeleton key, and for whatever reason, they were using it to summon Ciel.

            The fear he had felt when his door swung shut slowly bled away. In its place, a familiar sensation grew.

            A mystery to be solved. Curiosity rekindled.

            Ciel began to grin, an old warning coming back to mind.

            ' _"You're in trouble",'_ he echoed Finny's words to himself, ' _"Everyone, but especially you."'_

            As Ciel stepped out into the hallway, the lights over his head shut off, and another row of bulbs near the stairwell door turned on. He followed the path lay out for him, unafraid even as the ward door closed once more behind him.

            ' _"The Third Chairman."'_

 

 

The lights led the way. As soon as Ciel stepped into the orb they cast, the bulbs would switch off, the next set ahead taking their place.

            For those few seconds he was left in the dark, a dozen different scenarios would play out in his head. Hands reaching for him, the beds of their nails torn and bloody. More doors opening for him, mirror-lined rooms with only his reflection inside. Figures appearing as the lights returned, a skeletal hand pointing towards him in condemnation.

            But then the lights would turn back on, nothing but an empty corridor before him. The dread would fall away and Ciel would continue to follow the Chairman's path.

            Wandering the institute at night, his thoughts went back to the only time he had done so before. Searching for Finny had been an entirely different beast. Together with Sebastian and Agni, panic and suspicion had been rife. No knowledge of where they were supposed to go, Ash always just around the corner to chase them into hiding, discord between them as they were continually split up. It had been a shitshow from start to finish, a wonder they had ever found Finny at all.

            This time was different, in every aspect. The way was being shown to Ciel, though he had little idea just what he would find at the end. For all that his imagination was working overtime, at least he was free of company he couldn't trust, no fear of being stabbed in the back if he let his guard down. As much as he disliked being hand-led rather than choosing his own way, he followed the lights without hesitation.

            Ciel knew, with a certainty he usually would have questioned, that answers lay on the other side of those lights.

            The corridor of the sixth floor went black as a door to the right of Ciel beeped. As it opened, the lights inside of the room flickered on.

            Ciel stayed outside, though not from any sort of fear. Watching the electronic panel, the little blinking numbers counted down the thirty seconds a door would stay open before automatically closing, but even after those numbers hit zero, the door remained wide open for him.

            Inside the room, there was little of interest. A few aged sofas, a rickety old coffee table, a stained whiteboard stretched across one of the walls. A meeting room like any other. No one waited within, but as he lingered outside of the room, there was another faint beeping and the whoosh of a door.

            At the far end of the room, another door opened for him, as though showing him he wouldn't be trapped within.

            Ciel stepped through, his mental map of the institute in utter shambles.

            All these years, even after the search for Finny, he had imagined the structure of St. Victoria's as fairly straight forward. Six floors, ten doors on each floor, each room a dead end. He'd been inside many rooms, on a number of floors, and never seen anything to prove otherwise. Until now.

            Through the back door and into a smaller, much more cluttered room. Building materials lay gathering dust. Overflowing toolboxes and dismantled bits of scaffolding rested against the wall. Remnants of an abandoned renovation?

            Ciel lingered in this room for a time, trailing a finger across the hollow metal pipes of the scaffolding. The dust he collected was thick enough to paint his fingers grey. He weighed a few in his hand, deliberating between their heaviness. As he did so, the door that had opened for him beeped again.

            Ciel almost panicked, whipping around to check it was still open.

            The timer on the panel had restarted, climbing its way back down to zero.

            _Impatient._

            Ciel's lip curled. Not wanting to risk being stuck in the abandoned room, he grabbed the heaviest pipe he could carry and strode through the door, just as the timer ran out.

            The sound of his footsteps were different now.

            His toes clenched against the wooden floor, a significant change from the cold linoleum that usually lined the ground of the institute. It wasn't professionally done laminate wood, however. Beneath his bare feet, he could feel the uneven groove of the wood, roughness that promised a splinter. From that room to the corridor, the floor had changed, as though whatever refurbishments had been taking place had ended right there.

            Winding ahead, the building was ancient.

            Cracked paint. Creaking floorboards. Transparent dust covers strung from the ceiling. Rickety wooden stairs. Very faintly, the crackle of music, the hum of a familiar tune drifting down from up above.

            Ciel's hand clenched around the pipe, gritty dirt pressing into his palm.

            There were no more electronic doors besides the one he had just come through. Even that one looked out of place, an anachronism amongst the wood and dust. And the lights above his head were just single bulbs dangling down like hanging spiders. They didn't switch off as he moved beyond their glow, no longer needed to show Ciel the way.

            With no more doors and the music coming from above, there was only one way for him to go.

            _That song... I know that song._

            Pipe in a white-knuckle grip, Ciel made his way up the stairs.

 

 

The song was coming from a record player. An old thing, even compared to its surroundings. The sound was popping. The breaking pin skittered over the vinyl, interrupting the little tune every few seconds, as though about to give up entirely. But it kept going, cycling the wordless song as it built up tempo but always looping back just before it hit its peak.

            Ciel knew that tune, waited for the ending he recognized, but it always jumped backwards just before it got there. Of all the things to bother him about the room he entered, it was the endless song that first set his teeth on edge.

            At the top of the stairs, there had been no more lights. A small hallway reached out to a doorless entrance, though another dust cover hid the room from his eye. There was light within, flickering constantly, and the faint murmur of voices amidst the music.

            Ciel wasn't sure what it was at that moment. The lack of distinct light, the multiple voices, that unnerving song. Something, whatever it was, got under his skin. He wouldn't call it fright. Pride aside, the word didn't describe the sense of foreboding he felt as he stood at the top of those stairs. He didn't know just why, especially after his eagerness to follow the path he was led, but every instinct in his body screamed out at as one; _don't go in there._

            And that voice was his own voice, but not the one he knew. It was higher, softer, knowing.

            Ciel's mouth was suddenly dry, his palm damp around the pipe.

            _The door back down there is locked,_ he reasoned, trying to dismiss the hollow clenching in his stomach, _I can finally get the answers I've always wanted._

            But even with those facts, it had been so difficult to force his feet to move. When they did, they were embarrassingly unsteady. He blamed it on the cold in the air, would never admit to actually trembling.

            Beyond the dust cover, the lights were brighter. A dull white glow crept into every corner of the small room, shadows stretching from the few bits of furniture. An unmade bed, the failing record player, a single wooden chair.

            It was what that chair was facing that made Ciel freeze. The pipe dropped from his hand with a loud clunk. Unconsciously, he moved towards them, mouth no longer dry. He barely managed to clamp his hand over his lips before he retched.

            Between his own dry-heaving and the music, Ciel didn't hear the soft footsteps behind him. The first he knew of his companion was when he was struck across the back of the head with the metal pipe.

            He was out cold before he even hit the floor.

 

 

_"Tom, he was a piper's son,_

_He learnt to play when he was young,_

_And all the tune that he could play_

_Was 'over the hills and far away';_

_Over the hills and a great way off,_

_The wind shall blow my top-knot off."_

A woman's voice, rough around the edges but sweet to his ears nonetheless. The lyrics and the fingers brushing softly through his hair seemed to come as a pair, every slow stroke matching the lilt of her voice. If her nails began to scratch uncomfortably against his scalp when the music ended and the raised voices were no longer masked, he gave no indication, keeping his eyes shut and cuddling closer to her side.

            'You've got to! You're the only one we can trust!'

            The man's voice sounded so distressed, as it often did these days. Not long ago and it had only ever sounded content.

            'I - I,' the other man's voice was weaker, trembling, 'You don't know what you're asking. You'll only make them angry. They'll _hurt_ him if you do --'

            'They already have!'

            She began to sing again, without the music. It sounded infinitely sadder than before.

            'I'm sorry, I _can't_.'

            'So you're just going to let it happen?' No longer distressed, there was only rage there. He cringed to hear that voice so angry, curling up as small as he could go. She began to sing louder, trying to drown the shouting out, but it failed as a lullaby. ' _We trusted you!'_

            A crash. The unmistakable sound of skin against skin. A low yelp of pain.

            Her song ended in a wavering sigh.

            Her hand left his hair.

            'I'll be back, sweetheart. Try to sleep.'

            He kept his eyes closed tight, cold in her absence. Sleep couldn't have been further from his grasp, no matter how hard he tried. The promise of _tomorrow_ rang hollow in his ears and staying awake was all he could do to ensure that tomorrow never came. If he stayed awake, the day could not change, and he would be safe, at home, with them.

            The voices drifted away and someone returned to him, but not the someone he wanted.

            Fingers stroked gently through his hair, a touch so hesitating it was barely there at all.

            'It's alright.' That voice was neither angry or singing. It still sounded afraid. 'I won't let them hurt you.'

            The fingers trailed down the side of his face, feather light.

            'I... won't let them take you.'

 

 

Ciel woke slowly, feeling as though he was below water, his own weight pulling him down just as his fingers broke through the surface.

            As he came back to himself, the pulsing pain at the back of his head was the first thing he felt. Waking up with a headache wasn't something he was unfamiliar with. Waking up with his hair matted against the pillow, scalp split and crusted dry, that was a new one.

             Flickering white light. The tinny, skipping music. A man muttering to himself.

            This was not Ciel's room.

            The realization hit him and he forced himself still. Thankfully, the man had not noticed his movements, too busy with whatever he was doing.

            _Breathe, slow._

            Head hazy, body sluggish, panic spiking. He needed the reminder to breathe.

            It all came back to him slowly. Sebastian didn't come for him as planned, but this man had led him down the rabbit's hole. The music he had recognized, sang to him a lifetime ago. This room, a hidden den within the institute, one more of St. Victoria's lies. The flickering white light's source. This lie, unforgivable.

            From ceiling to floor, a wall of monitors stood. On every screen, a different room, a different scene. An interactive map of the institute. From the leisure room to the visitor's area, to the infirmary and the psychiatrist's offices, even an assortment of empty meeting rooms. They were all upon that wall, recorded in monochrome. For all that that had stolen Ciel's breath, it hadn't been what knocked him sick.

            The middle row of monitors broadcasted a familiar scene. Switching from one room to the next every minute or so, the patient's bedrooms were displayed for someone's viewing pleasure. He had seen Soma knelt at his bedroom door, head against the wood. He had seen Freckles panicked, mouth moving, words lost on the screen. He had seen Joker and Jumbo, gesturing grandly. The others slept on, unaware of their spectator, of their breached privacy.

            And seeing those screens, seeing his once safe space shown for whoever cared to see, Ciel had thought of every shameful moment he had experienced in his bedroom, comforted by the thought that he was alone and no one would ever know.

            Moments of weakness; clutching his father's ring, waking up with his hand outstretched for no one to take, hiding beneath his quilt as though it would keep the monsters out.

            Moments of lost control; broken things, bloodied hands, a throat screamed raw.

            Moments of shame; tearful dreams, Sebastian's mouth on him, Sebastian soaked in the blood of a patient in his bed.

            Knowing that someone had seen him at his worst, had watched him like some performing monkey, turned Ciel's stomach to the point that he had forgotten where he was, forgotten that somebody had called him there, forgotten that he was in more danger than he had ever been before.

            A cracked open skull was fair retribution for that loss of control, Ciel decided, forcing down the urge to be sick once again.

            With his eye closed, he listened to his attacker shuffle about. It was hard to make out just what it was he was saying, mumbling as low as he was, but after a few minutes, Ciel managed to pick up a few fragmented sentences.

            'The state of the place.'

            'What must he think.'

            'Had him walking into filth like this.'

            'How could you have let it get this _filthy._ '

            With every word Ciel picked out, his hackles rose that little bit more. The voice... it had a familiar edge to it, but he couldn't quite place it. The tone was throwing him off. If he had heard the voice before, he had never heard it sound so scattered.

            The urge to open his eye and look at the man's face rose.

            The man fell silent, his awkward steps drawing near. Ciel relaxed as best as he could, keeping his breathing slow and even. However, as good an actor as he considered himself to be, even he couldn't help but flinch when rough fingers prodded around his head wound.

            Unable to stop himself, Ciel hissed, body stiffening all over.

            The man made a joyful little noise.

            'You're awake!' he exclaimed giddily, ''Oh, I'm so sorry, I - I, I just panicked when I saw you. You were getting yourself all worked up. You were even sick! So I just, well, anyway, you're alright now, so that's what matters.'

            The fingers stopped probing his injury, stroking clumsily through his knotted hair. Even when he got caught up in the snaggles, he kept going, tearing some of Ciel's hair from his scalp. He didn't seem to notice he'd done it, petting Ciel as one would a dog.

            Ciel cringed away from the strange hand, eye still scrunched shut.

            'G'off.' His words slurred, tongue working slowly, thick in his mouth. He swallowed, trying to dampen his too-dry mouth. He tried again, blindly batting away the man's hand. 'Gerroff.'

            'S-Sorry.' The hand disappeared, the man taking a step back by the sounds of it. 'Um. Ah! You must be thirsty! I'm being so rude, I'm sorry! I'll be right back!'

            His footsteps became more distant, the dust cover rustling as the man left the monitor room.

            Ciel exhaled heavily through his nose.

            As soon as he had moved, his head felt as though it was pierced right through. Every pulse of pain, keeping time with his heartbeat, made his body feel weaker. He knew he had to sit up, had to open his eye, had to get away from this man. But he couldn't bring himself to move, too comfortable upon the bed. He knew when he did move, the agony would be unbearable.

            _Shouldn't have let him get behind you then,_ Ciel clenched his jaw, tensing, _with a weapon you brought, no less._

            Ciel pushed up on his elbows, a low groan slipping through gritted teeth. The black behind his eye swam as his head lolled, chin falling to his chest. He could see his pulse in his eyelid, hear it thundering in his ears. Bits of caked blood pulled at his hair, stuck to the cotton of the pillowcase, making the sting even worse. But for all that his arms shook holding him up, they held steady, and he managed to push himself into a sitting position.

            Bile flooded his mouth and he choked it down, refusing to let himself be sick in front of this man again. The man had seen him vulnerable far too many times. The monitors were proof enough of that.

            _You have to look._

            Opening his eye was the last thing he wanted to do, knowing the light would only exacerbate his nausea. More than that, he didn't want to look at the monitors again, to be in any way complicit in the perverse peepshow he and the other patients were unknowingly a part of.

            Sickening.

            But he had to, if only to see just who this person with the vaguely familiar voice was.

            Ciel opened his eye and knew he was in a bad way. The world was out of focus, everything a hazy double. No matter how many times he blinked his eye, his sight didn't become clear. The more he tried to bring something into focus, the more the pain thrumming through his head intensified.

            _Shit. How hard did he hit me?_

            Which brought to mind a dozen more questions. How long had he been unconscious. How much had he bled. Would he be able to even stand, never mind defend himself or run if he needed to. Was this attack intentionally debilitating or a panicked mistake like the man claimed. If he was hit so hard that he couldn't see straight, assumedly hours later, then was the damage to a dangerous extent.

            The dust cover rustled again, the man returning. Ciel squinted towards him, trying to make out his face, his clothes, anything identifiable, but all he could see was a blurred silhouette.

            'Here you go. I'm sorry it's just tap water. I can make you some tea, if you like?' The man didn't sound as nervous as he had before, stumbling over his words less. His confidence was definitely growing, as he pushed the rim of the glass against Ciel's mouth without a word of warning. It clacked harshly against Ciel's teeth, water spilling down his chin as he spluttered, jerking back. 'No? You want the tea, then?'

            The glass was put on the floor. The man wiped his sleeve across Ciel's mouth, cleaning away the spilled water.

            'Still so messy,' he chortled fondly.

            Ciel leaned further back, knocking away the man's arm. He didn't like that tone. He didn't like that familiarity. _Still?_ He couldn't place the voice, but he knew he had heard it before, and what the man had just said only confirmed that.

            Ciel struggled to think through the thought-scattering pain. From his first day at St. Victoria's, he tried to bring to mind the names and faces of staff members, the ones who had come and gone for whatever reason, the ones who had disappeared in the night like unnecessary patients. There had been a few, though not nearly as many as the patients. Of the ones who had been, in a word, _friendly,_ Ciel could only think of Chambers. And this certainly wasn't Chambers. He couldn't make out much of the man, but he could see his shape, and Chambers had been tall and elegant. This man was short, rotund, bumbling. The voice was all wrong too.

            Had he been a patient then? But of the patients Ciel had known to have vanished, none were nearly as old as this man seemed. St. Victoria's was a children's institution, after all, even if they were kept contained far beyond their adolescence.

            This man, the third Chairman, had never been a patient or a member of staff. Yet Ciel knew his voice, and the man certainly seemed to think he knew Ciel.

            The man began to hum happily, keeping time with the skipping vinyl. There must have been a little kettle in the corner as he wandered over there, pouring what was left of the glass of water into it.

            As the minutes ticked by, Ciel noticed the world beginning to right itself. Slowly, the doubles melded together, returning to their solitary selves. The record player became distinct as he stared at it, the curve of the turntable and the details upon the brass horn. He blinked a few more times, willing his sight to hurry up.

            'Here.' The man offered a dirty mug, steam rising from its brim. 'It's just the cheap bags. If I knew that we'd be seeing each other, I'd have gotten something better. Ah! You'll want sugar too, right? Lots of sugar. Just how you like it. I think I've got a few sachets in the cupboard. Hold on.'

            Ciel held the cup, looking hard at it. Chipped rim, faded gold lining the edges, the white stained brown. Each detail was clear, becoming fuzzy less frequently. Slowly but surely, his sight was stabilizing. But until it was one hundred percent, he knew he had to stall whatever the man wanted to do, talk or otherwise.

            Ciel bit the bullet, keeping his focus on the cup.

            'You didn't know we'd be seeing each other?' he asked, words still slightly slurred, 'Weren't you the one who invited me here?'

            The man made that noise again, a happy little chirp.

            'Yes, it was me! But I meant in advance. I'm so sorry for the mess, by the way. I didn't have much time to clean up, or to even get in proper teabags, or any snacks. I'm being a terrible host, aren't I?' The man laughed, a high-strung sound. 'It was all so last minute. When I heard you'd be leaving, I was terribly upset, y'see. I couldn't let you just go without seeing you properly first.'

            Ciel's eye finally focused, but he hesitated to look up, to see the face of the man. Instead, something else caught his eye on the floor, not far from his feet.

            A string of wooden blocks, crudely carved in the shape of a train. Each block was a different bright colour. Yellow, green, red, blue. It had little wheels too, the kind that stuttered when the toy was trailed around the floor, at risk of coming loose if pulled too rough. At the front, a tiny conductor was painted in, his wooden smile chipped.

            It wasn't the only toy. As Ciel raised his head, he saw the floor was cluttered with them, like a child's messy playroom. Lego bricks were spilled from their container. Jigsaw pieces in a complete disarray. Action figures with their limbs crooked. A rainbow xylophone with a few teeth missing.

            Ciel didn't know what to think. Those toys hadn't been there when he had first entered the room. With their addition, the already creepy security room took on a more disturbing edge.

            'You can play with them, if you like.' The man caught his stare. He snatched up one of the actions figures, approaching Ciel without caution. 'I bought them for you.'

            Ciel's grip on the cup tightened.

            'You said...' Ciel wet his lips, his mouth still parched despite the clumsy bit of water from before, 'You said you "heard I'd be leaving". What did you mean by that?'

            For a reason he couldn't quite place, Ciel wanted to veer away from the subject of the toys. Even so, he couldn't bring himself to stop looking at them, the bud of a realization beginning to take root at the back of his mind. The man's voice and toys were linked somehow, though he couldn't place just _why_ yet.

            'What did I...? Well, I heard.' The man laughed, like the tinkling of a bell. 'But that doesn't matter. We have so much more to talk ab --'

            'No, let's talk about that first,' Ciel interrupted coolly, 'You _heard_? So these cameras have sound too?'

            'Eh? Why do you want to...' The man sounded a little upset, his feet shifting awkwardly in Ciel's view. 'Not all of them do. The ones in the bedrooms don't, of course. That would be too vulgar. But the others do... Ciel, why -- Ah!'

            The man had stepped closer. Too close. Without thinking, Ciel had thrown the cup at him, the boiling hot tea slopping all down his front.

            'W - Why did you --'

            'Eavesdropping is rude,' Ciel remarked, raising his head bit by bit. The man was not dressed in the uniform of the patients, nor the uniform of the staff. He wore smart black pants, though they were clearly old, worn at the knees. Not to mention now stained by tea. The shirt had gotten the brunt of it, however, the yellowing white ruined. He was a large man, as Ciel had thought, but not particularly tall. Ciel wagered he had a few inches on him, but in terms of power, the man would have the edge.

            _Look at his face._

            Ciel still hesitated, lingering at the loose white bowtie he wore, tied in haste. His clothes may have been old, but he had obviously attempted to dress up. The few times Ciel had seen Tanaka, he had always been immaculate in suit and tie, as befitting a Chairman. Clearly, this man was taking a page from Tanaka's book, as opposed to Undertaker.

            But Ciel thought about what the man had told him so far, his palpable excitement at having Ciel there, the toys he had set out in the hopes of pleasing him. He began to wonder if the man had dressed up _for_ him.

            'I - I'm so sorry.' The man was back to stuttering, his voice thick with emotion. Ciel still didn't look at his face, but he saw that the man's hands were shaking, his fingers wringing together restlessly. 'I can understand if you're mad. I shouldn't have... B - But I've used it to help you, Ciel. I helped you find your friend!'

            'Finny.' Ciel wet his cracking lips, not nearly as excited to think back to Finny's words as he had been only hours ago. 'Finny mentioned you. Seemed to think I was in some sort of danger from you. What exactly did you do to him? To everyone else? _And why?_ '

            'What? No! No, no, no. I didn't do anything. It wasn't me!' the man cried in distress, reaching out for Ciel's hands. When Ciel moved out of the way, he made a despondent little groan, going back to wringing his hands. 'I promise, I wouldn't! I was really happy to see that you'd made a friend. E - Even if he was just a gardener,' he added, darkly.

            Ciel almost looked up at the sudden shift in tone.

            ' _"Just_ a gardener"?'

            'W - Well, I mean, I'm sure he was very nice. But a bit old to be playing with you. There's always something odd about older children playing with younger children, don't you think? Besides, he ... he was always grabbing you with his dirty hands. I didn't like that. I didn't like that at all.'

            Ciel couldn't avoid it any longer, desperate to see the expression that came with those foreboding words.

            Tentatively, Ciel raised his eye, looking his host in the face.

            'But really, I didn't hurt him. I never even wanted to, not really. A - And you were so upset when you found out he'd gone, and you and those men went to find him. And I'd seen where they put him! So I tried to show you the way, but you wouldn't listen. You kept going the opposite way to where I was showing you. It was _frustrating._ I was just trying to help. Why wouldn't you let me help? And -- wh - what's wrong?'

            The man trailed off, concerned. What little colour Ciel had had, it drained from his face. The bud of realization finally blossomed as he saw his captor, his host.

            The man began to blush.

            'You're staring,' he stated shyly, ducking his head.

            Thinning brown hair and eyes to match, looking down coyly behind rounded glasses. The facial hair was new, something he had not had when Ciel had known him. It was overgrown and tatty, a visible show of the man's neglect of himself. But everything else was the same. In all those years, he had changed so little, as though lifted directly from Ciel's memories.

            'Kelvin,' Ciel breathed, chest tight.

            Kelvin's blush only worsened, dimples pinching at his round cheeks as he smiled.

            'It's embarrassing to be all formal with you,' he said, 'Call me Noah.'

            Ciel vomited at his feet, unable to stop himself in time. Kelvin cried out in shock, immediately rushing to his side, gently rubbing Ciel's back.

            'Get it all up,' he cooed, like a doting parent, 'It's a nasty bump on the head. I'm sorry I don't have any ice to give you.'

            With every slow stroke on his back, the urge to retch became stronger. Ciel's skin crawled, the disgust leeching through his entire body. Clumsily, he shoved up off the bed, away from Kelvin's unwelcome touch.

            'You ... Why are you here?' He wished he could be calm. He wished he could be collected. He wished he didn't feel ten years old again. But all of that vanished in Kelvin's cloying presence. He needed to get away. Out of the playroom, beyond the locked doors.

            This wasn't the answer Ciel had been looking for. Kelvin didn't belong there, now, in St. Victoria's. He was from _before._ He existed in the _before._ He had no right to be in Ciel's present, to meld the two together when Ciel had tried his hardest all those years to keep them separate, distinct.

            'Why?' Kelvin blinked owlishly, reaching out to steady Ciel as he wavered dizzily. 'Because you're here. Where else would I be?'

            The door down the stairs was locked, even if Ciel were steady enough on his feet to make a run for it.

            _No._

            He pushed through the nausea, the disgust, the song getting louder in his head.

            _Answers._

            Ciel breathed in deeply through his nose, trying to ignore the sickly smell around him.

            'How... did you get hired here?' he eventually asked, when he was sure his voice had lost that hysteric note. It was hard to force a distance between himself and the situation, a sickening sensation he refused to call fear casting a shade over his calm. But he had to. The more he let his younger self take the reins, the more risk he put himself in. 'Did you buy your way in?'

            Kelvin had clearly lost his footing, confused at the change of subject. That child-like quality he had always carried was as strong as ever, Ciel noticed, though much more disturbing now that Ciel was old enough to recognize the dissonance.

            'Why do you want to talk about that?' Kelvin asked, eyes flickering around the room. 'I'm... I'm _here._ Isn't that what matters?'

            Avoiding the question. Bringing it back to sentiment. Ciel saw the man's reluctance and dove on it like a predator catching its prey.

            'What matters is the why and how of you being here.' It wasn't entirely intentional, but Ciel found himself adopting a deeper voice, further distancing himself and Kelvin from the child they both knew. 'Did Tanaka hire you? Or Undertaker? Did you buy your way in? Because you knew I was here.'

            The last part wasn't a question. That, if nothing else, Ciel was certain of. The question was _how_ had Kelvin known. Even wealth couldn't get a person information such as that. Ciel didn't know much about the founder of St. Victoria's, but he trusted his own judgement enough to know that Tanaka was not a man to be bribed. Going from his clothes alone, the man did not want for money, and had too much pride to be bought.

            Kelvin flustered at the interrogation.

            'I - I don't understand why you want to know all that,' the man admitted, somewhat embarrassedly. 'Wouldn't you rather play with these?'

            Kelvin got off the bed, offering Ciel the little action figure in his hand, gesturing to the rest on the floor. When Ciel's only response was a cold stare, Kelvin became even more ruffled, dropping the toy carelessly.

            'I have something better! You'll like this!' He strode past Ciel, stepping over some of the toys. A link between two blocks of the train broke under his foot. 'Of course you wouldn't be interested in those. They're _baby's_ toys. No, no, I shouldn't have... But you'll have missed this. You never used to sleep without it. That's what she told me. I was so happy.'

            Kelvin dug through the small chest of drawers in the corner of the room, throwing clothes out of his way mindlessly. He soon found what he was looking for, turning back to Ciel with a beaming grin.

            'You remember this?' In his hands was some sort of cuddly toy. That was as much as Ciel could make out, as ruined as it was. It was blackened, one of its legs entirely burned away. It had a putrid smell to it. Kelvin clearly hadn't seen fit to have it washed at any point over the years. His hands were coated in crumbling black dust as he held it, offering it to Ciel. 'It was your favourite, she said. I got it made for your seventh birthday. You always loved that dog so much, and you were terribly upset when they made you get rid of it, so I got you the next best thing. Remember?'

            Ciel stared at what was left of the cuddly dog, not recognizing it in the least. He'd had many toys growing up. None of them had a glowing spot in his memory. Still, seeing the hope in Kelvin's eyes, Ciel conjured up a smile. He knew an in when he saw one, as distasteful as the prospect of playing into Kelvin's playroom fantasy was.

            'Of course I remember it.' Even as his skin crawled to touch something so filthy, Ciel accepted the ashen remains of the toy. He held it to his chest in an awkward embrace, trying to let as little of it as possible come in contact with his bare skin. 'I was so upset when they said we couldn't keep the dog anymore. When Mother gave me this, it really cheered me up. I never realized it was from you.'

            A bare-faced lie. His mother had never given him anything resembling the thing. She had always been politely distant with Kelvin the rare times Ciel remembered them associating. To think she had even intercepted his attempts at gifts. How sharp had she been, Ciel considered briefly, how much of Kelvin's disturbed mind had she identified? Not that it had mattered in the end.

            Kelvin shone with happiness, his smile splitting his face.

            'I had it custom-made!' he exclaimed, eager to cement his involvement in Ciel's past happiness. 'The same breed and everything. The finest materials. I had to travel to the city to find someone to make it. When it was in the fire, I was beside myself... but I managed to get it back for you!'

            Ciel watched his gesticulations, looking closely at his hands. The skin of his palms was rough and misshapen, poorly healed scars. Burns. Exactly how far had he gone to get the ugly old toy Ciel had never even touched back from the flames?

            _Not far enough if he's still here._

            Ciel hid the dissatisfaction from his face, holding the toy closer. Its smoky scent stung, his eye watering.

            _Play along._ How many times had Ciel pushed down his true character in the name of survival? Not as often in the last few years, but in those early years, after he had shed his naivety but not yet regained his pride. In the name of survival, he had learned to be what he needed to be. So long as a person's sense of self was strong enough, a personality was a malleable thing, easily moulded to suit a purpose.

            Ciel's nails dug into the ruined cloth of the dog, trying to remember how to forget himself.

            'Thank you,' he said, raising his voice to a higher note. As he did, he watched Kelvin's face, waiting for any sort of reaction. It was slight, but he knew what he was looking for. A dusting of red across Kelvin's round cheeks, a sparkle of satisfaction in his eye, a hitch in his breath.

            Ciel looked down to hide the disgust he couldn't quite restrain. Although he had suspected it, to see the proof so plainly was a little more than his frayed nerves could handle right then.

            _He still sees me as a little boy._ So desperate to have him play with the toys. The reaction to a voice that matched Kelvin's memories more closely. It was all a part of the fantasy Kelvin had built around Ciel, that had founded his obsession all those years ago. Despite the obvious fact that Ciel was almost a man grown now, Kelvin blinded himself to it, clinging to any shred of the child who had stolen his heart. _He still looks at me like he did back then._

            How vile.

            Ciel only looked up again when he was certain his expression was neutral. The fine hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. His stomach clenched emptily, rippling like disturbed water. His hands itched to throw the filthy toy aside. Yet his expression was serene, not a hint of how he truly felt there.

            'I'd still like to know about you,' Ciel began, maintaining that unnatural high note to his voice. He couldn't remember exactly how he had spoken as a child, was loathe to imitate those embarrassing speech patterns, but it seemed the voice itself was doing the job. Kelvin was still reacting the same, weak to his own perversion. 'After everything that happened back then, I got put in here... but how did you find me?'

            Before, Kelvin had fought the questions. Now, he was putty in Ciel's hands.

            'The police came to Renbon the day after you disappeared,' Kelvin explained, returning to the bed and patting the empty space beside him. Ciel pretended not to see the invitation. 'The smoke had gotten so high, the neighbouring areas had reported it. Well, there wasn't much left for them to find, but those of us left explained what we could. They.... didn't understand.' His expression turned dark, eyes blank. 'People like them would never understand. Plebeians, all of them, judging us, unable to comprehend --'

            'Noah.' The use of Kelvin's first name brought him to an immediate stop, his expression clearing instantly. He chortled.

            'Sorry, sorry! As I was saying, we had to give reports to the police. I told them all about you. I told them to look for you. They promised they would, that they wouldn't rest until they found you and the other children. Even though I told them not to bother with the others, they still wasted their time.' Kelvin shook his head solemnly, getting derailed again. A short clearing of the throat from Ciel had him back on track. 'It wasn't until a few weeks later that I found out just what had happened. Nobody would tell me anything. They said I had no rights to the information. That I wasn't _related_ to you. As if that mattered. As if the bond we have has anything to do with that...

            'A - Anyway, I had to part with some of my funds before they would tell me anything. Even then, all they said was that you had already been claimed. That you were the sole survivor of the fire. I was so happy; you were alright! You were safe! I thought I would be able to come and get you, to take you back home, but... They wouldn't tell me anything about _who_ had claimed you, beyond the fact that it was a doctor. That you were hospitalized under their care. Even when I offered them more money, they wouldn't say anything. So I began to search myself.'

            Ciel felt his legs beginning to buckle under him, the dizziness becoming worse the longer he was stood. Avoiding the invitation to the bed, he took the chair by the monitors, wilfully ignoring what was shown upon them.

            Propped up against the bottom row of screens was the pipe Ciel had brought from downstairs, the end crusted with his blood.

            'You were successful, obviously,' Ciel said, trying to move the conversation along, 'Did you find me through my Aunt?'

            'No, of course not!' Kelvin replied, affronted, 'After how they treated your parents, no, no, I wouldn't talk to them for anything!'

            Ciel bristled at the offhand insult. To think, this man thought himself somehow _above_ Ann. But he pulled back on his temper, the answers he wanted still beyond his reach.

            'Then how?' Ciel prompted.

            'It certainly would have been faster to ask that woman,' Kelvin laughed, scratching the side of his mouth. The laughter died as soon as it started, his mood turning abruptly once more. 'No, I shouldn't laugh. If I had just asked her, I could have found you so much sooner.'

            'Noah,' Ciel interrupted softly, 'When _did_ you find me?'

            'I searched for a long time. I never stopped looking, you have to believe me. Though I... for a time, I admit to being discouraged. I started to think you really were gone, just like them. To have lost all three of you... I couldn't bear it.' Kelvin's voice thickened, his eyes glistening. 'So when I got their letter, I almost didn't believe it. That after all that searching, looking through the patient lists of all the hospitals in London and beyond, to just have the answer given to me so easily.'

            'What?' Ciel forgot himself for a moment, the unexpected answer pulling him from his childlike act. The reaction soon had him realizing his error, Kelvin's eyes flashing, something eerily close to anger there. 'W - Who sent you a letter?'

            Ciel quickly pulled it back, throwing in a stammer for added effect. It placated Kelvin instantly and the moment was forgotten, but not by Ciel. The fantasy was deep, he had known, but he saw now that if he slipped up again and ruined the illusion, Kelvin's anger was simmering just below the surface. For all that the man had apologized, he had readily enough split open Ciel's head. What would he do if Ciel actually angered him?

            'They didn't sign their name. They said they needed to remain anonymous, but they were so worried for the children, they just couldn't keep silent any longer. They needed my help. They couldn't help the children by themselves, or their identity would get out.' Kelvin frowned. 'I don't understand it myself, but since they told me where you were, I did as they asked. Thanks to them, I found out you were here. But when I tried to visit you, I couldn't even get inside. No one would open the gates for me, and I couldn't find a phone number to call.'

            Ciel's patience was wearing thin, Kelvin giving details in all the wrong places. Ciel wanted to know how he had been hired, for how _long_ he had been watching Ciel on those screens, why he had been content with just that at all.

            Considering Kelvin's past dependence on the Phantomhive couple and their son, it seemed odd that he had kept his distance. He had never known the meaning of the word before, always interfering, showing up unannounced, shoehorning himself into their home. He had mistaken their gratitude for his help as an open invitation, one that they attempted to rescind far too many times. So why, after searching so long for Ciel, did he settle for just a screen?

            'After some digging, I managed to find the phone number of Mr. Tanaka. The poor man was in a very bad way. In and out of hospitals himself, very poorly,' Kelvin tutted, 'Well, we spoke often. A very agreeable man. Particularly interested in my philanthropic work. But then his health became even worse, the poor man, and he asked me if I would be interested in helping him with St. Victoria's. Can you believe it? So easily! I was going to see you again!'

            Ciel saw his chance.

            'Then... why didn't you?' It came out more accusatory than he had intended, his impatience seeping into his tone. Again, that dangerous glint returned to Kelvin's eye, the Ciel before him veering from the Ciel he had envisioned. It took more to set it right this time, but Kelvin _wanted_ to believe, and so even if Ciel lay it on a bit too thick now, he was only too happy to play along. 'I was really lonely. I'd have been happy to see you.'

            Kelvin blushed once more, answering with ebullience, 'I wanted to! So badly! But the rules were strict, Ciel. There was no reason for me to meet the patients directly, and whenever I tried to, he thought it was strange. Undertaker. H - He misunderstood, y'see. I don't like that man...' Kelvin gritted his teeth, a muscle jumping in his cheek, 'Just like those policemen. Looking down on us. Well, I know what _he's_ been up to. When I show Tanaka, there'll be no question about it, he'll have to go --'

            As intriguing as whatever Undertaker had been up to was, Ciel had more pressing matters on his mind.

            'So, then... how long have you been here, Noah?' He was getting sick of hearing himself like that. Simpering. Infantile. It was disgusting to have to play into such a role, but it was working. Kelvin was easily moved by it.

            'About four years,' Kelvin replied, 'You were almost fourteen by then. We lost so much time, didn't we, Ciel? I'm sorry I couldn't find you sooner. I'm sorry I left you alone that long. Never again, I sw --'

            Ciel's stomach roiled.

            'Four years?' It was little more than a whisper, but a far cry from the voice he had been putting on. Kelvin wasn't angered by the shift this time. It seemed that as long as Ciel didn't show forcefulness, the fantasy was not disturbed. It was a wonder he hadn't reacted more dangerously to the thrown tea. 'You've watched me for four years?'

            'No, no, I _came_ here four years ago,' Kelvin shook his head, 'But it wasn't until two years ago that this was built. They didn't ask for this until then.'

            Two years, four years, it was all the same. What answer could have been given that wouldn't have repulsed him, Ciel didn't know. Years, months, even minutes of that man watching him without his knowledge, seeing him entirely unguarded. It was too much to take.

            Once more, Ciel's eyes drifted to the pipe. His fingers spasmed.

            'They?' he breathed.

            'The one who sent the letter,' Kelvin replied, as though his vagueness should have been obvious, 'Now that I was here, they wanted me to keep in touch. They were so worried for the children. I had to send them letters every week. But... well, they said it wasn't enough. I don't know why, I told them everything I knew. So they asked for this. But since then, the letters stopped.'

            'Tanaka said there were no cameras here,' Ciel said, voice low, 'When I came here, he promised there were no cameras.'

            'There weren't then.' Kelvin frowned. 'Ciel... what's wrong?'

            The ruined toy dropped from Ciel's hands, falling to the floor with a dull _fwump._ His hands were black in its absence, stained by soot. He wiped them clean on his shirt. Meeting Kelvin's eyes, all pretences were gone.

            'So what have been the highlights for you, Kelvin?' Ciel asked, confidence bleeding back into his voice. He didn't pretend to sound older like he had before, knowing full well the reality of who he was now was enough to shatter Kelvin's precious illusion. He towered over the still seated man as he stood, liking the way Kelvin had to look up at him now. 'Did you enjoy watching me like this?'

            Kelvin's joviality faded, a blank confusion taking its place.

            'C - Ciel?'

            'Let's think back... what are _my_ highlights?' Ciel raised his chin. 'Having my eye gouged out was a treat, but oh, you weren't here then. Shame. It was quite a show. Ooh, you'll have seen this one. Faustus holding me down in a tub of water because I refused to call myself a murderer. What did you think about that, Kelvin? Did you think I was right to deny it? Do you think it counts as murder when the ones dying are barely human?'

            Kelvin was having trouble drawing a proper breath, fisting the bedsheets. There was no comprehension in his eyes. Hearing Ciel's angry words, feeling his condemnation in every hissed syllable and the way he narrowed his eye. This wasn't how their reunion was supposed to go. This wasn't what Kelvin had wanted, not at all.

            'It only seemed fair,' Ciel continued, barbed wire sharp, 'They were the ones who told us fire _cleansed._ '

            'I - I,' Kelvin swallowed thickly, choking on an aborted breath, 'I just watched out for you, like they asked me to!'

            Ciel's tirade paused, scowl deepening.

            ' _They_ asked?' He shook his head, even as his scalp twinged, 'No, that's not what they asked. That's not what they wanted from _you._ The only thing they wanted from you, you fucked up.'

            'I had to! They were going to take you away!'

            This pause was a genuine one, born of surprise.

            'What?' Ciel blinked, empty hand clenching. 'You had to... what?'

            Kelvin realized his error too late. His eyes glistened with guilt, too bright. No words were forthcoming, even as his mouth moved mutedly.

            The dream drifted to the front of Ciel's thoughts. No, not a dream. A memory, dredged up from the depths of his mind by that saccharine song, still skipping on the archaic record player. His father pleading with Kelvin, to help them, to help them steal away into the night. Kelvin refusing, afraid -- but was it fear? Was it the consequences that would befall them all if Ciel was spirited away the night before that day that kept him from aiding them? Or was it something else, something selfish, that had brought their only hope crashing down in flames?

            Ciel felt the phantom stroke of his mother's fingers through his hair. Her soft voice trying to drown out his father's begging, his hopeless anger. That voice warped with terror, pushing him through the snow, telling him not to look back no matter what he heard, promising they would come for him.

            'Kelvin,' Ciel had never sounded calmer, 'What did you do?'

            'They were going to take you away.' Kelvin stared, wide-eyed. His hands shook in his lap. 'They didn't understand, Ciel. What an honour it was for you to have been chosen. You were going to transcend the filth we're all trapped in. Because they saw what _I_ saw. That you were pure. That you were innocent. That you deserved to be _more._ '

            When Ciel remained as still as stone, Kelvin paled, rising clumsily from the bed.

            'They were going to steal that away from you, Ciel. Their ignorance was going to rob you of the chance you'd been given. I - I couldn't _let_ them!' he explained desperately, gesturing without rhyme or reason. He couldn't seem to remain still, so frantic was he to make Ciel understand, to break through that icy veneer to find the real Ciel, _his_ Ciel. Because his Ciel would never have looked at him like that. So frigid, so far away.

            'They asked for your help,' Ciel stated. The accusation was intentional now. 'They thought you were their friend.'

            'I am!' Kelvin cried despairingly, 'I had to stop them, for their sakes too! I di - didn't think it would end up like that... I _didn't_.'

            'You told them that Mother and Father were leaving with me that night,' Ciel said slowly, enunciating every syllable, 'And so they murdered my parents.'

            Tears were streaming down Kelvin's face now. He fell to his knees, clinging to the legs of Ciel's pants. Even separated by the layer of fabric, the touch was nauseating. Regardless of his lingering dizziness, Ciel reeled back, a stronger stance in which to fling Kelvin away from him.

            The back of Kelvin's head hit the frame of the bed harshly, a wretched little moan spilling from his lips. He was sobbing now, trying to crawl back to be at Ciel's feet.

            'That's why I have to l - look after you,' he snivelled, trying to get back up, 'It's what Vincent would ha --'

            Kelvin's words were lost in a mouthful of blood. He screamed, a burbling screech. The pipe had struck him against the side of his head with such force that his mouth had been forced shut mid-word, driving his teeth straight through the flesh of his tongue. Blood and spit and a chunk of meat spilled out as he keeled over, heaving half of his own tongue onto the dirty floor.

            'Don't you dare say his name.' Ciel gripped the pipe tightly, looking down at the vermin at his feet. 'Vulgar. Ugly. Perverted.' Each word was punctuated by a step towards Kelvin as he looked up at Ciel, agonized. 'Men like you. You don't get to say his name. You don't get to say her name. You don't get to say _my_ name.'

            Each word was a carefully chosen dagger, puncturing Kelvin with precision. The insecurities Ciel hadn't recognized as a child. The infatuation he had placed in the entire Phantomhive trio as some paragon of beauty, of Ciel as some quintessence of purity and innocence. His desperate struggle to force his way into their world, even as Rachel watched him with keen mistrust, as Vincent pushed through to difference social circles he could never hope to reach. Ciel weaponized each realization, each failing in the scum at his feet.

            He saved the best for last, his bare feet slick with Kelvin's blood as he loomed over the cowering man.

            Ciel slowly shook his head, raising the pipe once more.

            'Men like you are the lowest form of human life,' Ciel spat, face contorted with disgust, 'You never had any right to exist in our lives.'

            And he brought the pipe down upon the crown of Kelvin's head.

 

 

Long after Kelvin's blood grew cold between his toes, Ciel's chest still heaved for air. It wasn't fear that was choking him, but something worse, something he had always had more trouble controlling.

            The moment Kelvin had said Vincent's name, Ciel's vision had gone red. To hear that name, uttered for the first time in almost eight years, eight years Ciel had spent forcing the name and the one that came with it down to the darkest depths of his memory. He had known then, ten years old and locked in a ward, that no matter how loud he screamed those names, they would never come for him again. Despite their promise. Despite waiting in the snow until he had forgotten how warmth could feel.

            Ciel could have coped with discovering a great many things in the security room. That it was all some elaborate trick. That it had been a prison all along, the penalty for the crimes he had committed when he was hurt and terrified and burning. Even Sebastian, the secret third chairman, the last two years together a long con. It wouldn't have been beyond the realm of St. Victoria's cruelty.

            But to walk through that doorway and find himself thrown into his past, face to face with the man who had taken their pleas and plunged them like knives into their backs, it was too much. No matter what the present threw at him, Ciel was confident he could face it. But he had spent too much time, too much energy, denying his memories and those two names to suddenly find them waiting, watching, the shadow behind the curtain.

            Ciel's throat burned, hand cramped around the pipe. The blood was drying on his feet, crusting him to the ground. The putrid smell of death emanated from Kelvin, swarming around him, pushing down on his shoulders.

            Ciel didn't recognize the sound of his own scream. It had been so long since he had last heard it.

            The pipe came crashing down onto the monitors. Glass exploded, shards glittering through the air like the sparks of a firework, crackling upon the ground. The larger pieces snicked his skin, tore at his feet, but Ciel didn't seem to notice. He continued his assault on the screens, destroying the evidence of his weakness, of his desperation, of his shame. Any screen that could have held an image of him, projected for Kelvin's peeping eyes, was shattered until all that remained was black.

            His face, his neck, his hands and his feet. Covered in tiny scratches, weeping cuts, glass still caught in larger tears. But even when no screens remained, Ciel's skin still itched, oozed, crawled. It wasn't enough. The anger was still there. The shame. The guilt. So he lashed out again, bringing the pipe down onto anything he found, destroying all the panels, all the little flashing lights, all those ugly cheap toys.

            Gradually, the sound drifted through the haze, going on for a time before Ciel registered it. Only when the anger began to seep away, shed bit by bit in every ruined thing, did Ciel truly hear the sound screaming around him.

            A siren.

            Calmly, Ciel wiped off the pipe on the bedsheets, stepping carelessly over the debris. He made no move to clean himself, bathed in Kelvin's blood and his own, but the pipe was near spotless by the time he straightened up again.

            Pipe hanging at his side, Ciel stepped through the dust covers, making his way to the open door at the bottom of the wooden stairs.


	33. Chapter 30

The chair was difficult to manoeuvre without someone's assistance. As strong as his arms had gotten in the years since the slip-up, Doctor still struggled with the uneven tiles of Ward V. Some gone entirely, others cracked beyond repair. The narrow curve of his front wheels too often stuttered over them, threatened to send him spilling from his seat.

     Sweat dotted his brow. The door had been damn near impossible to manage alone. A years old argument but Doctor still bristled every time he had to pass through the heavy steel monstrosity. It had been unnecessary the day it had been installed and it was still unnecessary today.

     No wonder Doctor's patients were so riled up, having to listen to that vicious slam every time he came to visit them.

     'Now, now,' he crooned, rolling himself down the walkway between the containments, 'Settle down.'

     V1 launched itself against the plastic wall. Its face crashed into the clear surface, nose flattened with a damp crunch. Blood streaked the plastic. If V1 felt any pain, it gave no indication, rearing back for another charge.

     Doctor tutted, moving over to V1's enclosure.

     'Look at the mess you've made of yourself,' he scolded lightly.

     Unfortunate as it was, there was nothing Doctor could do about it. After Tanaka's meeting, the last place he should have been was among his patients. Regardless of Undertaker's assurances, Doctor knew that Tanaka's sentiment had extended to _all_ patients, not just those dwelling on the upstairs ward. Even if Tanaka had never bothered to check up on Ward V, or even acknowledged its presence within his facility. For the sake of their safety, he knew Tanaka included them in his concerns, but there was no need for such worry.

     Doctor would never let them come to harm.

     'I can't stay for long, I'm afraid. Everyone's so on edge lately. I'm not even allowed in this building at the moment. Can you believe that? Lord only knows what Mr. Tanaka thinks he's doing. One person can't give all the patients the attention they need.'

     Doctor's voice brought the livelier patients to the front of their enclosures. Even the ones who huddled in the corners were watching him with their vacant eyes. V1 continued to fling Itself against the wall.

     'Not that he'd come down here anyway,' Doctor continued darkly, usual merriment nowhere to be found. 'I can understand the upstairs patients being a priority, I suppose. Business is politics and they're the poster patients, the ones who the public can _aww_ over. No sympathy for the ugly, hmm?'

     Doctor ran his hand absently over V4's enclosure. Although V4 had readily crawled to the front, It cringed away, lips pulling back from Its teeth shakily. If It made a noise, it was lost beneath V3's howl.

     'Everyone's got vices but hypocrisy always gets under my skin.'

     Doctor's hands clenched around the arms of his chair. Despite the anger in his voice, his eyes were soft as he looked around at his patients.

     'Where was the police enquiry when three of my patients went missing last year?' He paused, looking to his captive audience expectantly. 'That Brown fellow. I know it was him. Said as much. Said it 'til I was blue in the face, but what came of it? And Michaelis, well, it was an accident, of course, but no enquiry then either!'

     V9 clawed at the ground where the tiles met the plastic wall. Its nails had been torn from the skin weeks ago. All it achieved was making a mess.

     'Despicable,' Doctor spat, tapping on V9's enclosure to distract It, ' _"It sickens me that something like this could happen,"_ as though he thinks the Trancy boy is the first. The first to matter to him, maybe, but far from the first.'

     The racket V1 was making had aggravated the others. V3 began to follow suit, launching Itself against Its own enclosure. V2 wailed between them, mouth a toothless maw. V4 rocked back and forth on the floor, curled up as small as It could go. V9 continued to claw at the floor, headbutting the wall. The other three left their corners, pacing their enclosures restlessly.

     Doctor watched them fondly, shaking his head.

     'Where's the justice?'

     The siren screamed.

     'What -- oh, don't be ridiculous!' Doctor's first thought was that Tanaka had discovered his presence in the main building. Even with the wards on lockdown, triggering the security alarm was just silly, especially when Undertaker had reassured him that Ward V was exempt from said lockdown. However, beneath the wail of the siren, there was the unmistakable beeps of the doors unlocking. When he heard that, Doctor's indignation washed away, stomach sinking. 'What... What's going on?'

     The siren only enraged the patients further. The ward being so small, the noise was amplified. V2 covered Its ears fruitlessly. V1 and V3 attempted to outscream the siren. All the attacks to the walls became more frantic.

     The doors swung open.

     The fondness on Doctor's face had turned to fear, though he wouldn't acknowledge the hollow clench around his heart as such. Slowly, he gripped the push rims of his chair and drew himself back from V9's enclosure. The door had swung open with enough strength to send V9 flying, but It was already struggling back to Its ruined feet, dislocated jaw drooping.

     Doctor had never seen any thought behind the Ward V patients' actions before. Mindless rage, mindless apathy, mindless fear. Nothing more. Yet there was intent in each of them now, an awareness of their open doors that he could never have anticipated.

     They were coming for him.

     The ward door had opened too, that steel monstrosity sending a cloud of plaster into the air as it crashed against the wall. If he could wheel himself down there, push the door shut, then locked or not, they stood no chance of opening it.

     V9 burst from Its enclosure clumsily. It couldn't keep Its feet for more than two or three consecutive steps. By the time It reached where Doctor had been, he had already pushed himself out of harm's way. At least, harm from V9.

     V5 and V6 moved with much more grace. If Doctor didn't know better, he would have thought they were somehow working together, their movements in a sort of synchronization. One on each side, they reached out for him as he raced past, their broken hands grazing over his shoulders, his throat.

     The door was in reach. Just a few more strokes of his wheels.

     V1 pounced out of Its enclosure. Face drenched with blood, Its breathing was strained. Even though It was out, It didn't seem to realise. Without the door to beat against, It launched Itself at the opposite enclosure, smashing into that wall.

     It didn't even turn to look at Doctor, but the shock of Its appearance made him jerk to a stop. One of his wheels caught in a crack in the tiles, but he kept trying to force the chair on.

     He had only a moment to register that it was completely jammed before V2 and V3 were upon him.

     His scream was lost to the siren.

 

 

Soma trailed his hand along the chipped plaster. The stone steps were cool and gritty beneath his bare feet, his soles already darkening from the muck. He'd fallen a fair distance behind, Freckles in second to last already turning onto the next set of stairs below. They were all so hurried, so frantic.

     Soma was finding it difficult to feel anything but distant.

     The siren was louder in the stairwell. There was a speaker on every floor and the noise just echoed back upon itself with each static whine. A good fifteen or so minutes since it had began and still no sign of it stopping.

     No sign of any people either.

     _Can they hear it from the other building?_ The childish part of him, the part that was every bit as scared and desperate as the others, couldn't help but picture Agni bursting through one of the doors. He'd know which floor they needed to go to. He'd know where the exit was. He'd be able to go back and help Tanaka and find Ciel and -- _They can't hear it._

     A child's desperation. It had no place in this situation, Soma knew, and he crushed it down before it made him walk any slower than he already was, almost stopping by each floor's door.

     'Soma,' Snake had waited in the middle of the steps, glancing between him and the rest of the patients anxiously, 'You're going to get left behind.'

     _I wouldn't be the only one._

     Soma swallowed thickly, then followed close behind Snake to rejoin the group.

     They moved as silent as ghosts. They crept down the stairs, trying to be as small, as immaterial as possible. A tall order for a group of nine. Whenever someone stepped too harshly or knocked into someone else, they all stilled, hearts frozen.

     Against their hysteria, Joker's ragged breathing seemed even louder than the siren.

     Beast's hand was fisted at the back of his sweat-drenched shirt, arm straining to support his weight. He was trying to move his feet, but his steps were clumsy, dangerous on the stone stairs. More dangerous was the tightness in his jaw, the manic gleam in his eyes.

     Soma wondered if it had less to do with his deteriorated health as it did with what he had done.

     Jumbo stopped at the front of the group.

     'What's wrong?' Dagger asked, peering around him. They'd reached a door, but the stairs kept going down another floor. With no signs or numbers, it was impossible to tell just where in the Institute they were.

     'Is the ward on the second or the third floor?' Jumbo seemed to be asking himself more than the others, eyes narrowed at the door.

     'Whenever we go to the gardens, we go down... three sets of stairs, isn't it?' Freckles sounded unsure herself. She glanced at the stairs leading further down. 'The exit'll be on the ground floor, right?'

     'What about the basement?' Beast grit her teeth, hefting Joker up so his arm was more securely around her shoulders. The longer they stood still, the heavier he became. 'The Room's down in the basement.'

     Joker shook his head, wheezed, 'It's a lift to there.'

     'I've never been, so I'm not sure... Keep going down,' Jumbo decided, every inch of him hesitant, 'We can just come back up if we're wrong.'

     _They made me take the stairs,_ Soma thought, remembering the mirrored walls, how his crawling skin had itched for a wash, _there are stairs that lead down there too._

     But he didn't speak. Before the words could reach his tongue, Drocell had moved ahead, already pushing through the door on the lowest floor of St. Victoria's.

     The door had opened onto a narrow hallway branching off in two directions. Neglected as the rest, the dust sat heavily on their tongues, creeping down their throats with each breath. A dozen more doors lined the walls, all of them open. There were no windows, no indication as to where they should go.

     Drocell slowly walked down the left branch, watching the nearest doors warily.

     'That one,' he said, nodding to the door at the end of the corridor, 'That one could lead outside.'

     'Wait!' Beast called out, still by the stairs, 'We should check the next floor up before we go any deeper down here, shouldn't we?'

     'We can come back if we're wrong. Look, it's the only door that's different. Like how emergency exit doors look different,' Drocell reasoned, already half way to it. Snake trailed behind him uncertainly, though not too far from the rest of the group. 'We'll just look in, and if there's no visible exit, we'll go back the way we came.'

     Soma couldn't really remember the corridor well. The weeks in The Room eclipsed what came before them. He didn't remember the heavy steel door, couldn't say where it would lead, but he _did_ remember that they had taken him in the opposite direction, down where the corridor branched right.

     'We need to go back up,' Soma said, but it was drowned out by Joker.

     'No, I have to -- let go, I -- I was wrong! I have to go back!'

     Though his eyes were still glassy and his legs shook beneath him, Joker pushed away from Beast, stumbled beyond Jumbo's reach, to go back to the stairwell. The haunted expression Soma had seen before had changed now to one of steely determination.

     'Joker, no.' Beast reached out towards him. 'It's done. He'll be fine --'

     'He wants to help us.'

     'We can't risk everything on that. We can't.' Joker knocked her hand away, struggling to support himself against the door. She looked to Jumbo, but he seemed just as clueless for what to say.

     'Just grab him!' Drocell yelled, 'We haven't got the time for this!'

     'Sorry,' Jumbo said, then picked Joker up around the waist, hefting him up over his shoulder. The punches and kicks were feeble at best, only exhausting Joker more. Not enough to fall quiet, however.

     'Think about it! Even if we get out, what then? Where are we gonna go? How're we gonna eat and drink and stay warm? We won't be able to get jobs, not with our records, no one'd hire people like us!'

     Drocell spun to face the others, eyes blazing.

     'Then we'll steal! If we're already criminals, what does it matter? What do you think Tanaka would do for us, Joker? What do you _really_ think he'll do? Let us go?' Drocell gave a snide laugh. 'No. He may change things here, fire some people, change some rules, but he's not going to let us _go._ He never said he'd let us go!'

     Soma frowned, edging to the side of the group. Everyone was screaming at each other now, arguing with Joker, arguing with Drocell, arguing just to get going one way or the other. So focused on each other, Soma was the only one to notice the person wander out of the heavy steel door.

     'We need to go,' he said again, but it was too quiet. Choked. His throat had clenched up as he saw the person's face. Ruined as it was, he still recognized them, or at least, who they had been. 'We need to go!'

     V9 staggered forward blindly. One eye gone and the other infected, there was little It could see any more, but the patient's shouting coaxed It towards them. One lumbering step after the other, It made a damp gurgling noise, Its broken jaw hanging open limply.

     'If he wants to go, let him go!' Drocell exclaimed, patience broken, 'If he can even get back up the stairs on his own!'

     'We're not splittin' up!' Dagger stood in the middle, separating them as though the fight were physical. Frustrated tears threatened to fall, his hands trembling. 'We should find the way out _then_ decide what to do. Better than standin' around here shoutin'!'

     'Peter?'

     Soma didn't realize he'd retreated a few steps until his back hit the wall. He couldn't look away from V9, from Its struggling approach towards them. He couldn't even cry, the shock too absolute.

     It wasn't him who had spoken. Even when Soma had tried to shout, his voice had gone unheard. But Wendy's murmur silenced them all.

     She stepped forward, eyes wide.

     'Peter.'

     V9 continued to shamble towards them, a few steps away from Drocell. If It heard Wendy's voice, It gave no indication.

     Jumbo lowered Joker slowly to the floor, moving beside Wendy. Joker, oblivious to what the others were seeing, made for the stairwell. Beast swore softly beneath her breath and made after him. The door clanged shut behind them, unnoticed by the others.

     'Peter...' Jumbo couldn't seem to decide whether to reach out for V9 or to pull Wendy back. She made the decision for him, passing by Drocell and reaching out for V9. Close now, It heard her voice below the siren, turned Its head in her direction. 'Wha - What've they done to you?'

     She took one of Its broken hands in hers, reaching out the other to cup Its cheek.

     Then she was on the floor.

     'Wendy!'

     Her scream was worse than the siren. V9 pounced, gouged with Its nailless fingers, aimed for the throat. Despite Its small body, Jumbo struggled to push It off her, perhaps hesitant to use force against one of their own. That hesitance gave V9 time to scream.

     Freckles ran over, Dagger just behind. Between the three of them, they managed to get V9 off of Wendy, and Snake pulled her into his arms. Before he could figure out what to do next, there was an answering scream from beyond the steel door.

     V1 flew into the hallway. Once a hulking man, Its wasted muscles still held a spark of strength, and It used every last bit of that when It charged at Jumbo. Catching him right in the chest, the two crashed to the floor.

     'Jumbo!' Dagger cried, running over to help, but attracting V1's attention. It looked up from Jumbo, preparing to rise for another attack. Jumbo pushed up off the floor, catching It by surprise.

     'Run!' he yelled, gesturing Dagger away. Another two patients came out of Ward V, attracted by the commotion. They were soaked in fresh blood. 'I said run!'

     Dagger sobbed but did as he was told. He grabbed Freckles' wrist and made for the stairwell. Snake and Drocell were quick behind, Wendy pale and limp in Snake's arms.

     'Where's Joker and Sis?!' Dagger glanced around wildly, as though they were hiding somewhere. He turned to Soma for the answer, but Soma just stared blankly ahead.

     V1 lifted Its massive fist, then brought it crashing down on Jumbo's face.

     'Jumbo!' Dagger sobbed. He turned to run back, but Drocell caught the collar of his shirt.

     'He said to run! _Run!'_

     _Run,_ Soma thought, unable to tear his gaze from V1's bloody fists. More of them were spilling out from the steel door. V9, V4 and V5 were shambling down the corridor towards them, faces contorted.

     _If Agni hadn't come for me --_

_You need to run._

_If he hadn't gotten me out of The Room --_

_Run._

_Would I be like them?_

_Run!_

Soma took off down the right branch of the corridor. The others called out behind him, confused, frustrated, afraid, but their voices couldn't break through the panic gripping Soma's heart.

     There was no logical reason for the certainty that took a hold of him then. He wasn't like Ciel. He couldn't notice the small details and have all the pieces of the puzzle just fall into place. He was probably wrong. He was definitely wrong.

     _Ciel's in The Room._

     Seeing the experimental patients, seeing what had become of them and knowing it would have happened to him, if only Agni hadn't risked more than Soma had known at the time to save him. Even if he was wrong, Soma couldn't take the chance.

     He burst through the only door that felt right, opening up onto a draughty hallway. It wasn't familiar, but it didn't feel wrong either, so he continued on.

     Footsteps behind him.

     He grit his teeth, ran faster.

     'W - Wait!'

     A hand grabbed his, yanking him around so hard he almost fell. The door they'd come through fell shut, leaving them in complete darkness.

     'Freckles?'

     'Where are you going?!'

     'I've gotta find Ciel, I can't leave without him, he wouldn't leave without me --'

     'Wait, what... What are you talking about? Why would he be down here?'

     'The Room. It's this way. They took me this way when I got put in there.'

     Freckles' hand tightened around Soma's. Her nails bit into the skin of his knuckles.

     'You think he's in there?'

     'Where else would he be?! You don't think he left us too, do you?'

     'Of course I don't, but... Soma, we can't go back that way. They - They _killed_ \--'

     Soma turned his palm over to squeeze her hand. It wasn't for comfort so much as it was to stop her from talking. Though he had seen it himself, he didn't think he could stand to hear it put in words.

     'There's a chance Ciel's in that room,' Soma said slowly, convincing himself to go through with this as much as he was convincing her, 'I can't just leave if there's a chance he's down there.'

     Freckles didn't answer for a minute. From the way they came, there was a wild shriek, not a voice either of them recognized. It was more animal than human.

     'Let's go,' she said, and pulled Soma on down the pitch black corridor.

 

 

A light snow had begun to fall, though the heavy clouds held a promise of more. It was only just dusting the frost-glazed grass that stretched between the two buildings.

     Sebastian took small, careful steps. The frozen ground crunched beneath the heel of his boot, too slick to go any faster.

     The siren was louder out here. To be able to hear it from the heart of the residential building, he could only imagine the cacophony in the main building. Surely the other staff had heard too, or had perhaps even expected it. Could it be some sort of retaliation against Tanaka, what with the looming threat of the police in the morning?

     Sebastian frowned slightly, spinning the scalpel between his bare, bloodied fingers. He hadn't thought to put on his gloves. Even when he'd taken the scalpel, knowing full well what he was going to do with it, he hadn't thought of his gloves. When he found Ciel, he couldn't imagine he'd be too pleased at the sight of him.

     Oddly enough, Sebastian was more curious what expression he'd make than worried what Ciel would think. It wasn't a patient's blood, after all, and it had all been in the name of self-defence.

     The doors of the building were closed, but when Sebastian pushed against the glass, they opened without resistance.

     _About twenty minutes since the alarm started. They'll have made a run for it already._ Though he knew Ciel wasn't on the ward, his instinct was to check anyway. The chances of him running into the other patients were slim, unless they were too spooked to leave. _If it wasn't Claude, best bet would be Angela and Ash. In which case..._

     Sebastian bypassed the stairs, making his way down the far hallway. When he came to the two doors, he chose the one on the right and came to the lift. That, too, didn't need his keycard. As soon as he pressed the button, it creaked to life, inching slowly down to the basement.

     The third time he was making the trip down to Room 1800. The first time he'd felt mistrust, worry and enough curiosity to cancel the others out. The second time, there had only been paranoia, an informed fear. Now, even with the possibility of what he'd find down there, Sebastian was just impatient.

     His foot tapped against the metal grating, arms folded across his chest.

     _Find Ciel. Jump the wall. Head West._

     A lot had changed in a day, but the plan remained the same.

     The lift doors struggled open, letting in the siren's screech. The air in the basement was as stale as the Underground, yet something altogether more unpleasant was mixed within. Sebastian stopped, inhaling deeply, but couldn't figure out just what that underlying tang was.

     He shrugged and moved on.

     _If there's been a mass breakout then one patient's disappearance won't be looked into any more than another's. The train is an option, as long as we get to it before the police have a chance to spread any photographs._

He stepped out of the lift's alcove, making his way down the narrow corridor. The lights were off here, the few bulbs that hung from the ceilings long overdue for a change. Fortunately, there was only one way to go, and Sebastian made for the door he knew was at the very end of the hall.

     _We'll get into London and figure the rest out from there. Have to do something about the eye-patch, it's too distinguishing a characteristic, but otherwise, we should blend in without a problem._

Sebastian's eyes soon adjusted to the dark. He slowed, fingering the handle of his scalpel, tucked securely in the belt of his pants. He couldn't see the door, or rather, the door was open. There was the faint outline of its frame, but within, only black. The mirrors had nothing to reflect without the lights, so beyond the door, there appeared to be an endless plunge. No floors, no walls, and certainly no captive.

     Sebastian withdrew his scalpel, knuckles white.

     _Then where?_

     Behind him, a low rumble broke the monotony of the siren. Like the whirring of an engine, the sound struggled to carry, struggled to continue. The clink of a chain being pulled, then the rumble turned to a roar.

     'Harder to work clean-up in the dark,' a voice sighed, the click clack of heels drawing closer, 'But with such an early wake up call, I didn't have time to get myself ready, so it's better if I'm not seen looking like this anyway.'

     Sebastian threw himself against the wall as the air was cleaved through by the revolving blade of a chainsaw. Its teeth bit through the concrete floor, sending up a flurry of dust and debris, then it was being swung at Sebastian once more.

     His mind went blank, but his body moved regardless. He let his knees buckle, dropping into a crouch, then when the chainsaw crashed into the wall above him, he charged forward. He caught them dead in the chest with his shoulder and they fell back, dragging the chainsaw along the ground with them.

     Stunned, they didn't react quick enough to avoid the scalpel slashing across their knuckles. Instinctively, they let go, and the chainsaw dropped to the floor.

     Close enough to feel each other's breaths, their eyes met.

     Sebastian's stomach dropped.

     'Sebby!

     Grell beamed, shaking the blood from her injured hand. Contrary to what she'd said, her hair and make-up were already done, and that certainly wasn't the standard uniform. Nor was the pin-thin heel stamped upon Sebastian's toes the standard footwear for Orderlies.

     Sebastian cursed beneath his breath, stumbling back a step.

     'I didn't realize it was you!' Grell shouted over the siren, picking the chainsaw back up with both hands. Its chain had stopped moving, though it was no less threatening still. 'What're you doing all the way down here? And with just that?'

     She nodded towards the scalpel, her look more than a little judgemental. Certainly it was nothing much compared to a chainsaw.

     'What are _you_ doing with that?' Sebastian asked, mimicking her expression, 'Not a very lady-like weapon.'

     Grell huffed, yanking at the throttle. The chain began to spin again.

     'A lady-like weapon is any weapon a lady chooses!'

     Grell launched forward again, but Sebastian anticipated the attack and stepped clean out of the way. With the weight of the chainsaw and the dark of the hallway, it would take a minute for her to regain her bearings, giving Sebastian ample opportunity to make a break for it. Against a chainsaw in the dark, he didn't much fancy his chances.

     Sebastian ducked then shoved at Grell's stomach to knock her off balance. As he heard her heels totter uncertainly, he ran past her, hand gliding along the left wall in search of the alcove.

     Before he reached it, the door at the far end of the corridor opened.

     'Hurry!'

     'But that noise!'

     Soma and Freckles sprinted into the hallway, hand in hand. She tried to pull him back, squinting ahead, and they both froze when they saw Sebastian.

     It was too dark to tell, but he got the feeling they weren't glad to see him.

     The reunion didn't get a chance to start. Grell had regained her bearings and was coming their way. The chainsaw was held high above her head, face split with a manic grin. Sebastian dove against the opposite wall, but she ran right by him without trying to land a hit.

     Her target was clear.

     Soma and Freckles dropped each other's hands and threw themselves in opposite directions. It was a narrow miss. The chainsaw clashed against the steel door, sending sparks up in the air.

     'Sorry, Sebby! I'll have to play with you later. Work comes first,' Grell said, steadying a foot against the door to pull the saw out from where it had gotten lodged. On either side, Soma and Freckles were staring wide-eyed, seemingly too shocked to take the chance to run.

     Charitably, Sebastian asked, 'Work? Chasing people with a chainsaw wasn't in _my_ job description.'

     They took the time he was buying them. Freckles first, slipping out from under Grell. She gave Soma a hard boot and he snapped out of it too, scuttering across the floor to find his feet. Of all the ways to go, they came to Sebastian, moving behind him as though he were their shield.

     They were a few months too late to expect him to play that role.

     'New orders from above,' Grell grunted, finally freeing the chainsaw after a particularly hard tug, 'Clean up the basement, he said. What, were you not told the same, Sebby?'

     _Oh._ Sebastian took another step forward, hand still dragging along the wall. His fingers found the curve of the alcove. Behind him, Freckles and Soma edged close. _So I'm certainly not in Undertaker's faction, then._

     Ciel's theory couldn't be disputed now. If Undertaker was the one who created Ward V in Tanaka's absence, then it made sense that it was his direct subordinates who would destroy the evidence when the threat of police loomed. Grell, and surely somewhere else in the basement, Will and Ronald were busy at work.

     If Undertaker was going to these lengths, things really had gotten out of control.

     Sebastian bit back a grin.

     'You'll want to head back that way then. I doubt he meant for you to _clean up_ these patients.'

     Grell sauntered forward, chainsaw hanging at her side.

     'My order was to clean up the basement.' She smirked. 'You're all in the basement.'

     Every minute wasted in the basement was a minute Sebastian could have been searching for Ciel. He wasn't in Room 1800, and if he wasn't there, then he likely wasn't in the basement at all.

     _He'd never forgive you for leaving them._

     Trying to fight off a chainsaw with nothing but a scalpel was just asking for a messy death. Though Sebastian found Grell nothing but a nuisance, he didn't particularly want to kill her either, not like he had Faustus.

     _He doesn't have to know._

     The alcove was just to his left. If he waited for Grell to charge again then sprinted for the lift, he could make it while she was distracted with Soma and Freckles. It was their mistake coming down here, after all, and Ciel had been prepared to abandon them to make his own grand escape. What difference did it really make whether they were alive or dead in the Institute if Ciel was never going to see them again?

     Freckles tugged at the back of Sebastian's shirt, hand shaking.

     'He wasn't in there, was he?'

     Grell yanked the throttle and ran towards them.

     Knowing Ciel, he'd find out one way or another, and Sebastian's life wouldn't be worth living. With that in mind, Sebastian sighed, then spun around to grab Soma with one arm and Freckles with the other. He crouched, pulling them with him, and the chainsaw crashed into the wall again. As soon as the first burst of dust hit the air, Sebastian rose back up, shouldering Grell into the wall.

     Grell didn't drop the chainsaw this time, predicting Sebastian's response. She just laughed, letting herself hit the wall then lashing out with her foot.

     It caught Sebastian right in the stomach. The pointed heel sunk into his skin, forcing him to double over. He let go of Soma and Freckles, wheezing for breath, then heard the revving of the chainsaw once more.

     'Sebastian!'

     'Black!'

     The scalpel was cold in Sebastian's palm, but colder still was the bite of the spinning chain. It tore at his shoulder, ripping apart his uniform, then sending a spray of blood across his face.

     He couldn't help the scream. It was a pain unlike any he'd felt before. Even V7's fists upon his spine hadn't set his nerves alight, not like this.

     Sebastian's fingers went limp, the scalpel falling to the floor.

     'You'll look better in red, Sebby,' Grell said, something almost earnest in her voice, but her eyes were bright with mirth.

     Until she heard the grinding of her chainsaw's engine. Looking down in confusion, she saw the scalpel, twisted and close to snapping, jammed into the opening where the blade met the engine. Smoke rose as the chain continued trying to spin, but as the scalpel broke, one of the pieces was pulled into the gap and the chainsaw spluttered to a shaky stop.

     'No, no, no!' With no consideration, the chainsaw was yanked out of Sebastian's wound, leaving him to collapse to the floor with a strangled yell. Grell barely seemed to notice, more preoccupied with her broken toy.

     Soma's hand was still extended, left hovering where he had plunged the scalpel into the weapon.

     'Move,' Freckles gasped, breaths coming too quick and too shallow. She had her hands beneath Sebastian's armpits, trying to force him up. 'Move!'

     The blood was flowing fast and Sebastian couldn't move his fingers no matter how hard he tried. The pain was already gone, a cold numbness descending. He would have been glad for it, were it not for the trembling all over that belied just how much damage had been done. He tried to get his feet under him, to not lean so heavily on Freckles, but his legs refused to cooperate.

     _Should have left them,_ Sebastian thought, keeling over to the wall. The lift was in sight but he was shaking too badly to make a break for it. _Won't find him in this state. Won't be any use if I do._

     'What are you doing now?!' From beyond the ruined door came an angry voice. Sebastian couldn't find the strength to lift his head and see, but he heard a clashing of metal, the creak of the rusted hinges, Freckles' unsteady breaths. 'We were assigned three targets each! Don't expect me to do your work for you, Sutcliffe.'

     'Told you she went this way. Can I go now? I already did mine.'

     After some struggling, Will succeeded in forcing his way past the broken door. Ronald followed behind leisurely, stretching his arms in front of him with a wide yawn. Grell barely acknowledged their arrival, grumbling to herself, wrist buried in the gap between the blade and the engine.

     Freckles' hands tensed around Sebastian. Soma tugged at the back of her shirt, inching towards the alcove. But still, Sebastian couldn't force himself to stand. His shirt was wet through with blood. The fingers on his right hand wouldn't move.

     Grell finally looked up, mouth twisted in a frown.

     'They broke it!'

     Will eyed the chainsaw with derision.

     'Good. Why you would pick something so inefficient, I have no idea.'

     'Style over substance, y'know? Not as cool as mine, though. Mine wouldn't break so easy.'

     _Find Ciel. Jump the wall. Head West. Find Ciel. Jump the wall. Head West. Find Ciel. Jump the wall. Head West. Find Ciel --_

     Sebastian pulled a breath in through his nose, pressing his good hand down tight over his wounded shoulder. Pain flashed white across his closed eyelids, the siren turning to white noise in his ears. The pain spiked cold, a barbed wake-up call, and when Sebastian opened his eyes again, his vision had cleared.

     _Find Ciel. Find Ciel. Find Ciel. Find Ciel. Find Ciel._

     The rest of the plan didn't matter. Without Ciel, none of it would matter. He had to be somewhere in the Institute. If not the basement, then higher up, in any one of the hundreds of empty rooms in the building. Weaponless, bleeding, Sebastian would check every last one.

     'Wait!' Freckles hissed, but Sebastian ignored her, staggering to his feet. They had gone overlooked before but now they had Will and Ronald's attention. One look at the state of Sebastian and Will was all business again.

     'They are not your targets. Stop making more work for us and do what you were told to do, not whatever you please!' he chided, the same sort of annoyance one would express with an uncooperative printer in an office.

     'Yeah, you're not supposed to go for the upstairs ones,' Ronald agreed, pulling a face, 'Now the ones you were supposed to do have gotten up the stairs though. You're gonna have to go look for them.'

     'With what? They broke it!' Grell exclaimed, wriggling her hand about in the chainsaw. She seemed to have gotten a grip on the piece of scalpel, but with her fist clenched, she couldn't fit her hand back through the gap.

     'Irrelevant to me,' Will said, turning around. He began to walk back to the door. 'Just get it done.'

     'Later!' Ronald grinned, tossing a wave back their way as he followed after Will.

     _Now!_ Sebastian pushed off of the wall and made for the alcove. The world wavered beneath his feet, sinking around him like quicksand, but though his knees quaked, he staggered on. Behind him, Freckles and Soma were whispering to each other, frantic little hisses. Then they were on either side, each taking an arm, pulling him along to the mouth of the lift.

     Sebastian collapsed to his knees, the lines of the grating pressed into his skin. Was Grell giving chase? The doors of the lift slid shut before he could see.

     Everything faded to static.

     'Sebastian! What floor? What floor do we go to?!'

     'Don't shake him, you'll knock his shoulder!'

     He breathed in through his nose, but couldn't quite get enough air. Tried again. Worse, this time. He was shaking all over.

     'Sebastian, tell us where to go. Where's the exit?'

     Soma sounded serious. That was worrying. Did he look that bad?

     'Black, you were lookin' for Smile, right? We'll find him. We gotta get you out first, though. Nod if I say the right one, ok? Is it the first floor?'

     He tried to nod his head but just slid down against the wall. When he tried to open his eyes, the dim light of the lift was blinding. Bile flooded his mouth.

     'Press first. If we're wrong, we'll just come back.'

     'Coz that worked so well last time!'

     The second time he opened his eyes, it wasn't as bad. Still too bright, but expected.

     _Find Ciel._

     Those two wouldn't find him. They couldn't even choose a floor to go to without arguing.

     _Have to find Ciel._

     Sebastian let his body fall forward, catching himself on his good arm before his face could hit the grating. The lift was only narrow. He was already in arms reach of the buttons. Soma caught him under the arm and pulled him upright, maybe helping, maybe catching on, Sebastian wasn't sure.

     'Which floor?' he said, amber eyes intent.

     Sebastian reached out, pressing the button to the highest floor the lift would go.

 

\---

 

'Joker, it's already done. Let's go back to the others,' Beast implored, chasing behind him up the stairs. Her hand hovered over his back as he lurched to the side again.

     Though his colour had only gotten worse, his determination was overpowering how ill he must have felt. It was with little aid that he reached the third floor, bursting through the stairwell doors.

     Tanaka was as they had left him, lying on one of the couches. What little blood there had been was already dry, and as Joker probed at the wound he had given the old man, it was not nearly as bad as he had thought.

     Beast stood sentry at the ward door, watching the hall. She shot Joker a fretful look over her shoulder.

     'Switch with me,' she said, leaving the doorway, 'You can't carry him.'

     Joker nodded, stepping back to give her room. With ease, she lifted Tanaka into her arms, adjusting him until his head was settled against her shoulder. His expression was so serene, he could have just been sleeping. Hardly the boogieman of their nightmares.

     'Alright, let's --' Beast turned and knocked right into Joker. She flinched, stepped back, and saw what had made him freeze.

     Blocking the doorway was Ash. His hair was sleep-mussed and his feet were bare, a plain white t-shirt and sweatpants taking the place of his usually impeccable uniform. Dressed like that, he could have been one of them. With the wild look in his eyes, he certainly fit the part.

     'Where are the others?' His voice was as taut as a wire, straining to be heard over the siren. 'It's past curfew. Why aren't you in your rooms?'

     He stepped into the ward, glancing about as though he may have just overlooked the other patients. But no, just Joker and Beast, the unconscious Chairman in her arms.

     Ash's fists clenched.

     'Return to your rooms immediately!'

     Something like this was unprecedented. Security had never failed St. Victoria's before. Ash himself had been able to enter the building even without his keycard. If he could get in then the patients could get out. Perhaps they already had? Only two remained on the ward, outnumbering him.

     Order had to be maintained. If patients had deserted the building then he would find them and bring them back. Simply done.

     First, these two.

     'Put the Chairman down and return to your rooms. As the two of you haven't left the ward, there'll be no punishment for you,' Ash said, a facsimile of calm, 'Close your doors and remain there until the security breach has been resolved. Do you understand me?'

     Joker and Beast watched his gradual approach, his words barely seeming to register with them. When he finished speaking, rather than answer, Beast lowered Tanaka to the floor.

     'Beast!' Joker looked to her, face falling. 'Don't --'

     But she didn't return to her room as instructed. Instead, she unbuckled Tanaka's belt, slipping the thick leather from his pant loops. She slid the buckle around her hand, tightening it so that it was fastened across her knuckles.

     She stepped over Tanaka, pushing Joker behind her.

     Ash snarled.

     'I _said_ return to your rooms! If you continue to disobey me, you will be --'

     His head was flung to the side as the leather snapped across his cheek. The blow forced him to one knee, a thick line of red blossoming across his face. Blood budded at the sides, a dull sting.

     'You'll have to carry him,' Beast said. Though she reared back for another lashing, nobody looked more astonished by what she'd done than her. 'Don't go as far down as before, okay?'

     Joker shook himself out of the shock then did as he was told. It was with much less finesse than Beast that he picked Tanaka up, throwing him over his shoulder with only one arm. The weight unbalanced him and he fell to his knees more than once as he made for the stairwell.

     Ash was only caught unawares once. After the first blow, he fell back from the second, and the next, and the next. Beast couldn't land another hit, but nor could Ash pursue her. She backed out of the ward with the belt striking the air before her, repelling any of Ash's attempts to grab her.

     When she heard the stairwell door clang open, she turned and ran. Joker had put Tanaka down, reaching out for Beast's hand.

     Ash was right behind.

     'If you do not return to your rooms, you will be punished! You have no one to blame but yourselves!' he screamed after her, bare feet slapping against the linoleum floor. 'You'll never get better like this!'

     Beast flew through the doors and Joker slammed them shut behind her. He grabbed her hand, pulling the belt free, then looped it around the protruding handles. They got the buckle notched tight just as Ash crashed into the doors.

     A choked yell, then silence.

     They didn't wait around for anything else.

 

\---

 

The pipe scratched along the floor, from the wooden boards of Kelvin's den to the sleek lino of the institute. Dots of blood were left like breadcrumbs in Ciel's wake, his feet torn by the glass of the monitors. Down the corridors, down the steps, from one stairwell to the other.

     _I killed him._

     His mind was oddly quiet now. Back in the monitor room, it had been chaos. Too much new information, too much to take in and rationalize and make room for, until he had felt himself splitting at the seams. But with the screens in pieces and Kelvin lying dead, everything had gone blissfully calm in his mind.

     _I killed him with my own hands._

     Ciel had killed before, in a myriad of ways. He had killed his parents by needing their protection. He had killed the people of Renbon by causing the fire. He had killed Alois by failing to see his downward spiral. He had killed the man Sebastian used to be by using him until all the good was wasted away. In the same sense, he had killed anyone Sebastian killed, the proxy not enough to cleanse his hands of the blood.

     But this was the first time Ciel had taken a life with his own hands. Not through mistakes or apathy or selfishness, but through a weapon in his grasp and desperation in his heart.

     It was an altogether different monster.

     Ciel pushed through the doors of the right stairwell, pipe dragging along behind him. The siren had yet to let up, having long become a ringing in his ears. Without making the conscious decision, Ciel found himself on the third floor, making his way to the ward.

     There was a dull banging beneath the siren, its source coming into view as Ciel turned the corner.

     Ash beat upon the left stairwell doors, alternating between his fists and ramming into them with his shoulder. His face was bloody, a matching stain on the door.

     Ciel stopped at a distance.

     'Open this door! You must return to your rooms immediately, or there will be consequences!' Ash roared, throwing himself against the door. The doors did give beneath him, a gap appearing between the two, but something was holding them together on the other side. No matter how hard he rammed into them, the makeshift lock wouldn't break. 'Order must ... Must be maintained!'

     The pipe scraped against the floor as Ciel shifted from one foot to the other, watching Ash but not really seeing him. Distantly, he knew he should have gone back the way he had come before Ash noticed him, but the fog in his mind didn't allow the thought to become action.

     Ash whipped around, spotting him.

     'You.' It was little more than a growl. He eyed Ciel with open hostility, lips pulling back from his teeth. He stalked forward, shoulders hunched. 'This was you.'

     _You need to run._

     'It's always you,' Ash snarled, closer and closer, 'Exception to every rule. Thinking yourself above us. Always _scheming._ Don't you realize what you're doing? Ruining everything! For you, for the other patients, jeopardizing everyone's progress!'

     _Run. Run, idiot!_

     Ciel's hand tightened around the pipe, feet rooted to the ground. He wanted to run. He needed to run. But he couldn't convince his legs to cooperate.

     'We were helping you people, but you had to ruin it all. Abducting Joker from his treatment, getting rid of the gardener before the experiment could finish, and now you've --'

     The fog lifted. Ciel met Ash's eyes.

     'The gardener?'

     'Don't pretend you don't know! We know it was you!' Ash erupted, bearing down upon Ciel, 'Prying where you had no right to, disrupting the process! It could have helped you all, if you'd just _let_ it. Burying memories deep in the mind, so deep they may as well not have happened, not have existed. Cleansing the mind of the things that made you ill, the things that got you in here. Think of it, a cure! _But you ruined it!'_

     Ash moved to grab Ciel. To Ciel, those hands seemed like claws, as beastly as the rage in Ash's eyes.

     'Don't touch me!'

     The pipe moved before Ciel realized it, striking at Ash's knees. He wailed, falling to the floor. Again, Ciel's body moved automatically, lifting the pipe high above his head just as he'd done for Kelvin.

     _No!_ Ciel dragged in a breath, arms trembling. _No._

     He ran.

     'It's your fault! This is all your fault!' Ash screamed after him, but Ciel didn't look back.

     _I was going to kill him._

It was self-defence. Only a fool would think that Ash meant anything but harm at this point. With the curtains pulled on St. Victoria's misdeeds and Ash and Angela's careful control pulled from their grasps, there was no safety net beneath Ciel now.

     But even in self-defence, he couldn't bring himself to finish Ash with the pipe as he had done Kelvin. It wasn't the same. Ash was a foul person, but the impact he'd had on Ciel's life was far less than the things Kelvin had done. There was no justification to be had in physically beating him to death. Ciel didn't want to watch the light fade from Ash's eyes, to stand over him as he breathed his last.

     _He won't let me go,_ Ciel thought as he raced through the door of the main ward, pipe still dragging behind him. Ash had stopped screaming, but his voice was still there, a faint hum beneath the siren. And... another? Two voices. Angela had arrived on the scene from the unblocked stairwell.

     _They won't let me go._ _If it's in their power, they'll keep us all. I have to._

     But not with the pipe. Not like that. It wasn't how Ciel operated. Such a messy, unrefined way to get things done. Too much evidence left behind. He had to think of the evidence now, because this wasn't the end result. There was tomorrow to think about, and the day after, and the day after.

     The days beyond St. Victoria's.

     Ciel ran to his room, kicking the door shut behind him. Though it wouldn't lock, it was still a momentary obstacle for the Head Orderlies.

     _Think._

     It was what he did best. What was there at hand that could be used? What would be most effective, most quick, most inconspicuous? He knew his room better than anywhere else, had a mental inventory of all it contained. Nothing. Children's toys, books, furniture. Nothing of use. Nothing deadly.

     _Think!_

     There was always something. It was just a matter of application.

     Ciel's eyes went to the lamp on his bedside table. He walked towards it, crouching down to run his fingers along the socket. His nail dug into the seam where the plastic met the wall. The plaster chipped beneath the most gentle of touches, dusting his fingertips.

     Glancing back towards the door, he rammed the pipe into the wall. The plaster caved easily, crumbling away beneath the blow. A network of wires ran within, spanning like veins beneath the Institute's skin.

     This could work. A slow smile curled at Ciel's lips.

     Ciel made the hole larger until it touched the carpet. Satisfied, he strode over to the bathroom. First things first, he put the pipe down to grab a towel. Twisting both taps on the sink, he left it there to soak, turning towards the bath. He did the same here, running both taps at full force. The pipes groaned, the water coming slow at first, then flooding out into the tub.

     The towel was soaked through. He took it back to the bedroom, setting it carefully upon the hole. Only the very tip was within. It barely touched the wires, and Ciel was quick to drop it just in case.

     How much time had passed, he wondered. Did he have enough time left before Ash and Angela came after him?

     Ciel rushed back to the bathroom, taking the pipe back in hand. The sink was overflowing, water spilling out onto the floor, but the tub was only half full.

     Too slow.

     Rearing back on one foot, Ciel swung the pipe as hard as he could into the tubes beneath the sink. One hit wasn't enough to break them, but it was a good start, cracks beginning in the plastic. He planted his right foot firm on the ground, launching forward for another hit. The crack widened, water beginning to spit into the air. The flow from both sets of taps faltered.

     Again and again and again. It took more than Ciel had anticipated, time seeming to slow when he knew it was slipping away from him too fast. But after one particularly hard hit that jarred the joint of Ciel's wrist, the pipe gave.

     Just in time for Angela's voice to reach Ciel, shouting out across the ward.

     Ciel ran with the spreading water. The sink and the bath didn't spill a drop more, all the water intercepted at the broken pipe. The bathroom flooded before Ciel even reached the door and the bedroom was next.

     The growing pool reached the towel just in time for Ciel to jump onto his bed, wet foot prints spreading across the duvet cover.

     He gripped the neck of the lamp, watching the water spread out across the bedroom. Beyond his bed, beyond the desk. The carpet darkened, the shade leeching outwards. It didn't quite reach the door before it was flung open, hitting the wall with a resounding bang.

     'What did you do?' Angela had eyes only for Ciel. If either of them had looked down, things could have ended very differently, but their rage didn't allow them to do that. All they could see was years of their work in ruins and the person they had chosen to blame for that. 'What did you do?!'

     She stalked forward, Ash's arm around her shoulders. He limped heavily at her side. Ciel watched their feet rather than their faces. Angela only stopped once she was in the water, looking down at her sodden slippers in confusion.

     'What --'

     Ciel turned on the lamp.

 

\---

 

Sebastian had never been one for teamwork. In none of his jobs had he played a supporting role, took the backseat for someone else, let his good work be attributed to anyone but himself. As it had with everything else, St. Victoria's proved to be the exception.

     'Check them,' he instructed through gritted teeth, pushing away from Freckles' shoulder to lean against the wall. They were on the top floor of the institute, surrounded by its open doors and unlit rooms. 'A quick look in each room.'

     The nausea had faded and the bleeding all but stopped, yet Sebastian felt far from well. He was cold, wracked with shivers, and his body was taking longer and longer to respond to what was happening. The least to expect when so closely introduced to a chainsaw.

     The way Soma and Freckles kept staring at him, Sebastian assumed he looked far worse than he felt. Well then, they could do the legwork. He didn't have the energy to spare, though he had a feeling he'd need what little he had in reserve should they find Ciel.

     'Nothing,' Soma said, the first to return. Freckles wasn't far behind, her search just as fruitless.

     That ruled out the top floor. The next was just as unsuccessful. Though the rooms were more lived in, there was no sign of anyone having used them in a while, left long enough for dust to settle.

     'Next floor down is the ward,' Sebastian said, hand pressed firmly over his ruined shoulder. The pressure eased the pain some, cleared his head enough to refuse Freckles' silent offer of support. 'If he got out of wherever he was, there's a chance he may have gone back there.'

     As they entered the right stairwell, the siren choked off abruptly, the silence that followed louder than its screech. They stopped, dazed. Then another sound, a rising whistle. It took a moment for any of them to notice that, in time with the whistle, the bulbs above their heads were growing brighter and brighter. As the whistle reached its highest pitch, the lights died.

     'Wha - What's going on?'

     Sebastian wasn't sure just which of them asked the question, though it was definitely Soma's hands clinging to the back of his shirt. In the pitch black, the stairwell was an unending plunge below. One wrong step could end with their head split upon the stone.

     'Freckles,' Sebastian said, lowering himself slowly to sit upon the stairs. Soma did the same, still holding tight to Sebastian's shirt. 'Feel with your hands for the top step. You'll be able to reach the door from there. Check if the lights are out in the corridor as well.'

     In her bare feet, it was hard to hear her move at all, even in the deafening quiet. There was a faint scuffling, hands and feet both feeling their way forward carefully. Then the creak of the door. Sebastian knew the answer even before Freckles spoke.

     'They're not on. None of the rooms, either. I can't see a thing.'

     Sebastian nodded, then remembered she couldn't see him.

     'Close the door and sit down. We'll wait a minute, see if the lights come back on. If not, we carry on anyway.'

     Sebastian closed his eyes. There was little difference between what he could see and the backs of his eyelids, anyway.

     _It's been... about three quarters of an hour at most since the siren began. It wasn't Tanaka's doing, and given the last minute orders to clean up, it likely wasn't Undertaker either. In that case, this could be the staff's damage control._

     If they knew the patients were loose in the asylum, and Sebastian had to assume they did by now, then plunging them into darkness was a viable method. The staff had the advantage of knowing the layout of the building, while the patients would be running blind just trying to get out. Even moreso in the dark.

     Will and Ronald weren't a concern. Will had made clear before that he wouldn't act beyond the scope of his orders. Ronald seemed just as averse to overtime. With the two of them already done, Sebastian couldn't imagine he'd run into them again. Grell, on the other hand, was definitely still on the prowl. Though the chainsaw was out of commission, Sebastian didn't much fancy running into her again.

     The others, too. Ash and Angela knew the building better than any, what with their joint title of Head Orderly. Then there was Grey, Phipps and Brown. Sebastian was still in the dark on them. What faction they belonged to, the extent of their involvement, what they would do now that the Institute was free game. They were a closed book, and in the state he was in, Sebastian didn't want to risk it.

     'I can see better now,' Soma whispered, finally letting go of Sebastian.

     'Yeah, me too. I don't like just sittin' around. Let's get movin',' Freckles replied, shuffling down the steps on her bottom.

     Sebastian opened his eyes, letting them slowly adjust to the black around them. He could just about see the faint outline of the stairs. Enough to make the careful descent.

     The lights didn't come back on as they shuffled slowly down the stairs to the third floor. The speakers remained quiet too, only the lingering echo of its siren in their heads. Though they were on edge expecting an attack, nothing came from the shadows. At least until the smell.

     'What is that?' Soma noticed it first. He inhaled deeply, but the smell caught at the back of his throat, strong enough to choke. It made his eyes water, an ashen taste on his tongue. 'Is that --'

     'Smoke.'

     From beneath the third floor doors, a thick cloud of smoke billowed through the gap. It carried ash in the air, and with each inhale the trio took, the ash sat heavily upon their tongues. Distantly, there was a growing rumble. And then a hacking cough.

     'Ciel!' The three of them recognized the struggling wheeze at once, familiar with it from one time or another. Soma dove for the door, pulling at the handles, but something was jamming them together. They only opened a little, and all that did was allow more smoke into the narrow stairwell. 'Ciel, is that you? Are you okay?'

     'Smile, this door is stuck! Can you go to the other set of stairs?' Freckles yelled, words dissolving into coughs.

     Sebastian shoved them both out of the way. He still couldn't move the fingers of his right hand, but with his left, he pulled at the door handles. His fingers quickly found the obstruction, though he couldn't see it clearly through the smoke.

     'Get this off,' Sebastian ordered, grabbing blindly for Soma's hand and placing it over the tightened belt. It only took him a moment to realize what it was and he made quick work of the buckle. It fell to the floor with a dull clunk.

     The doors needed little help in opening then. They flew into the wall, the smoke swelling into the stairwell. Soma and Freckles crouched, struggling to contain their coughing, but Sebastian had his collar pulled up over his mouth and nose. It did little to stop his eyes from streaming, but he could breathe well enough for now.

     'Ciel!' Muffled as it was, his voice didn't carry far. Ciel didn't even look up. He was out of the ward, where the smoke was billowing from, but just barely. Doubled over on the floor, all Sebastian could see was the top of his head, his hair caked with dried blood.

     He ran to him, half-crouching, trying to keep below the smoke. The closer he came to Ciel and the ward, the more intense the heat became. It was with little surprise that he saw the fire's origin was Ciel's bedroom. The room was nothing more than an inferno now, its blaze spreading into the leisure room.

     Sebastian dropped his collar to pull Ciel against him, holding his breath. He fumbled at Ciel's shirt, tugging it up over his face.

     'I can't carry you, you have to stand up,' Sebastian said close to Ciel's ear, pressing his nose against Ciel's hair to try and not breathe in as much smoke.

     This close, he could feel the rattle of Ciel's breaths, how too close together they were. His eye was closed, the skin around his nose blackened from inhaling the smoke.

     Only one thing for it.

     Sebastian tightened his arm around Ciel then heaved him up against his side. Secure there, he got his hand under Ciel's legs. Being moved about brought Ciel back to himself, at least enough to have the sense to loop an arm around Sebastian's shoulder. His hand brushed Sebastian's wound, and he bit back a groan, breaking into a low run for the door.

     Soma and Freckles wasted no time in slamming the doors shut after them, the belt tightly secured around the handles.

 

\---

 

Wendy was still breathing, but only just. She was heavy as stone in Snake's arms, the blood around her torn throat black. He kept checking, leaning forward to hear that faint gasp. It was a small comfort as the lights went out, the siren going quiet.

     'This has to be the right floor, doesn't it?' Drocell was no longer as sure of himself. He had the hem of Snake's shirt pinched between his fingers, letting Dagger lead the way. 'If that was the basement, this must be the right floor.'

     'Shut up.' It was the first thing Dagger had said since dragging the others into the stairwell, slamming the door on the experimental patients. On Jumbo and Peter and Soma and Freckles, all scattered or lost. He had led them silently, not stopping even when the hall went dark. 'Just. Shut up.'

     For once, Drocell actually did. They continued on in silence, broken only by Wendy's sporadic breaths.

     They were closer to the doors than they could have known. If they'd come out of the other stairwell, it would have been right in front of them, the dim light of the moon showing the way. However, they had come out of the left stairwell, leaving a horseshoe hallway between them and freedom.

     They were at the midway curve when the ceiling began to groan. They stopped, all looking up at the dark above them. Before they had a chance to speak, dust began to rain down, or was it dust? Drocell brushed some off of his shoulder, rubbing it between his finger and thumb. Thicker than dust. The texture entirely different.

     His chest tightened, mouth going dry.

     'Move.'

     The command was lost to the crash. The ceiling fell down around them, plaster and smoke dropping faster than the debris. Chunks of brick and wood, furniture in charred pieces, and an almighty heat. It piled up, creating a barricade in the middle of the corridor. On one side, Snake and Drocell had fallen back out of harm's way. On the other side, Dagger had thrown himself forward, skidding along the floor to safety.

     The dust settled. From the hole above, a massive fire blazed, its heat pulsating through the air as the flames danced. It wasn't just the floor above that had collapsed, but the one above that, where the smoke was the thickest. Judging by the drawn out creaking, the rest of the ceiling didn't have long before it too buckled.

     'What do we do?' Snake cradled Wendy against his chest, knuckles blanched. He stared up at the crater in the ceiling, sweat beading at his upper lip.

     'I don't...' Drocell struggled to his feet, brushing away the plaster that had coated him. He pulled at Snake's shoulders, helping him rise without disturbing Wendy too much.

     'Guys! Are you okay?!'

     The barricade between them and Dagger was absolute. If it had just been bricks and broken furniture, that would have been fine, but amid those were the rods of steel that had failed to support the concrete. Rusted rebars lanced through the debris, dangerously sharp. If they tried to climb over those, especially carrying Wendy too, one false step could be their undoing.

     'Try an' find the easiest bit to make a hole, okay?! I'll try on this end!' Dagger shouted. A distant scuffling followed, but none of the pile was disturbed on their end, no sign of just where Dagger was trying to burrow through.

     'For now, let's put her down,' Drocell said.

     Snake looked down at Wendy. Her face was so drained of colour that her veins webbed a stark blue just beneath her skin. His arms tightened around her.

     'But... if it falls any more, we won't get to her in time,' Snake objected meekly.

     Drocell looked at her, but there was only shame in his eyes.

     'It's going to fall. We need to get to the other side if we're going to get out. Put her down.'

     Snake pressed his lips together, so tight they lost all colour, then shook his head.

     'Snake, we need to dig! She's already --'

     Dagger was speaking. His voice reached them softly, the words hard to pick up over the growing roar of the fire above. Moreso because he wasn't shouting in the slightest. Drocell and Snake shared a confused look.

     A chair leg topped down from the barricade. Near the middle of the pile, the chunks of plaster and brick began to move. Barely more than a twitch at first, then more debris was pushed free from pile, a hole gradually beginning to form.

     Drocell ran over, plunging his hands into the hole. Pushing, pulling, twisting to free the clutter. Someone else's hands brushed against his from the other side, a joint effort.

     Further back in the corridor, more of the ceiling broke away, crashing to the floor in a cloud of plaster and smoke. Snake darted closer, shoulders hunched to better shield Wendy.

     The hole grew.

     'It should be big enough now! Try and climb through, I'll make sure nothing hits you!'

     Drocell and Snake froze. The voice that reached them wasn't Dagger's. Deeper, older, no less familiar. When they didn't answer, a face appeared at the hole.

     'Hurry, the ceiling won't hold much longer!' Agni said, earnest. His eyes were streaming from the smoke, the longer strands of his hair plastered against his face and neck with sweat. He held out a dust-smeared hand, his fingers bloody from clawing at the wreckage. 'Pass her through first!'

     Drocell took a slow step back. He stared at the offered hand as though it were a beast about to pounce. Safer to step back towards the blaze, towards the cracking plaster far from the hole. Intense heat licked at the back of his neck, the skin reddening in an instant. Better that than to take Agni's hand.

     'C'mon, hurry up!' Dagger called to them, peering around Agni. He leaned against the Orderly without hesitation, without worry. Out of all of them, he was the one on the wrong side of the barricade.

     'Careful,' Snake said low, cradling the back of Wendy's head as he passed her through the hole feet first. He didn't even flinch when Agni's hands knocked against his, and as soon as Wendy was safely through and in Dagger's arms, Snake accepted Agni's hand too.

     'No!' Drocell darted forward and pulled at the back of Snake's shirt. Snake's foot slipped on the chunk of brick poking out of the pile. He looked back over his shoulder, hand still in Agni's grip.

     'Did you want to go first?' Snake asked in bemusement. He still didn't let go, and when Agni tugged at his hand again, Snake moved to duck through the hole.

     'No, Snake!' Only for Drocell to yank him back through, hard enough this time to release him from Agni's grip. Snake stumbled, falling against Drocell's chest. 'Snake, he's one of them, we can't!'

     'Don't be stupid!' Dagger yelled, peering through the hole, 'Hurry up and get through, the roof won't hold much longer!'

     'I won't hurt you, I swear!' Agni cried, holding out his hand again. 'The exit is only around the corner! The sooner I get you four out, the sooner I can find the others. Please, hurry!'

     'He's lying,' Drocell whispered, clinging to Snake. It wasn't just from the smoke that his eyes were watering now. 'They always lie. We can't trust him.'

     The ceiling groaned once more. Louder, more drawn out. Cracks splintered the plaster. The smoke spilling from the hole was growing darker, more black than grey.

     Snake glanced between Drocell and the hole. More than the heat of the fire, he felt how his shirt had stiffened from Wendy's blood. With difficulty, he pried Drocell's hands off of him.

     'There's nowhere else for us to go,' he reasoned, moving back towards the hole. He held out his hand for Drocell to take, hoping it was more promising a prospect than Agni's had been. Behind him, Agni and Dagger were both reaching out blindly. One of them, he wasn't sure which, got a grip on his wrist. 'It's okay. We're almost out. Just a bit more.'

     Drocell screwed his eyes shut, bottom lip trembling. The tears didn't spill, but Snake was more than familiar with the way his body shook.

     'You don't have to trust him,' Snake implored, one leg hooked through the hole, body bent to fit in the gap. Agni had an arm secured above him, making sure nothing fell down. 'Just me.'

     Drocell tore his hand free from Snake, jerking back a few steps. He didn't speak, just shook his head.

     'Drocell!' Snake reached after him, watching the ash raining down from the hole above. Then more than ash. More brick, more plaster. The fire was eating away at the floors above, and Drocell had moved right beneath. 'Drocell, come he --'

     The roof caved in. Agni wrapped an arm around Snake's waist, pulling him through the hole to safety, but not before he saw Drocell disappear beneath the smoke and debris.

 

\---

 

They heard the building's groan from the stairwell. Though smoke filled it to its corners, it was still cool within, the heavy stone untouched by the fire's heat. For now. As they struggled down the stairs in the dark, Ciel on Freckles' back and Sebastian half-dragged by Soma, the crashes of the upper floors caving in was amplified.

     When they came to the ground floor, Soma and Freckles paused, looking to each other uncertainly. The metal of the door was warm, a light leeching beneath the crack.

     'Sebastian, is this the right floor?' Freckles asked, her throat raw from coughing. One hand behind her to support Ciel, she grabbed the door handle.

     Though still conscious, Sebastian looked worse than Ciel. His skin had taken on a sallow tinge and his eyes were glassy. Around his nose and mouth was blackened by smoke. He took a while to answer, and even then, it was simply a nod.

     'Let's go.' Soma placed his hand over Freckles', pushing the door for her.

     The darkness was chased away by the flickering light of flames. Through the massive craters in the ceiling, the fire burned bright, eating away at the upper floors of St. Victoria's. The corridor was strewn with the wreckage from above, almost completely blocking their way. Midway through the hall, there was a pile that reached the ceiling.

     'We can't get through,' Soma said, jaw slack. He inched forward, stepping carefully over the debris. It was simple enough to work their way to the middle of the corridor, but with that massive barricade there to meet them, there was no way to move forward.

     Freckles' jumped as a hand appeared in her line of sight. Ciel pointed ahead shakily, breath a rattling wheeze against the crook of her neck. Though he tried to speak, his words were indistinct.

     She followed his finger, squinting through the haze of smoke.

     Her face brightened.

     'There's a hole!'

     How out of the three of them, it was Ciel of all people to spot it, Freckles wasn't sure, but there it was. Narrow, and uncomfortably close to the blaze above, but a way out nonetheless.

     'Let's go!'

     It was hard to resist just running for it. If it weren't for Ciel and Sebastian, they probably would have, the danger the piles of debris posed be damned. They still stumbled several times in their haste, Sebastian almost taking a nasty fall onto a protruding metal rod.

     It was easier than it looked to get through it. Freckles went first. When she was safely through, Ciel and Sebastian were helped through the gap, then Soma brought up the rear. The other side of the barricade was in far better condition. Bits of the roof had fallen in on this side too, but the proportion of debris to corridor was much in the latter's favour.

     When they turned the corner and saw the open doors leading outside, rather than relief or excitement, another sensation overwhelmed the four of them. What they felt then was a keen sense of foreboding. The hairs on the back of Soma's neck rose. A chill slipped into Freckles' blood, goose-pimples budding across her skin. For Sebastian and Ciel, it was a familiar sensation, a heavy weight dropping in their stomachs.

     Ciel opened his eye, searching through the smoke for the source of their unease. The exit was right there, the path and the grass and a softly falling snow, it was right before their eyes. Yet none of them made a move towards it.

     Lumbering by the door was V1.

     It was as broken as they were. Blood, plaster and ash were layered thickly over Its skin, Its nose twisted unnaturally out of place. There was more confusion in It than rage now. Though It was right by the door, It faced the wall, pushing into it mindlessly.

     'Don't move.'

     Sebastian alone didn't look at V1 with surprise or fear. There was a recognition in his eyes that told Ciel everything he needed to know about just where this ruined man had come from. The terror Soma and Freckles couldn't hide confirmed it.

     'Don't move,' Sebastian repeated softly, though none of them had.

     From above, plaster flitted through the air. A crack began to form on the ceiling directly over their heads. That crack was all the warning they got, and they just managed to lunge forwards before it came down.

     V1 turned to face them.

     'Don't move,' Sebastian said, but he was already pushing away from Soma's shoulder, moving to stand in front of them. Ciel wriggled down from Freckles' back, glancing about for something Sebastian could use.

     V1 gave a failing wail. It jerked towards them, one clumsy step after another, with none of the force It had used on Jumbo earlier. It was acting on instinct, unable to do anything more.

     Ciel darted forward and V1 made him Its target.

     'Smile!'

     'What're you doing? Get back!'

     Sebastian didn't call out to him. He had seen the glint in Ciel's eye, saw his hands reaching out before him. So instead, Sebastian ran to meet V1 before it could reach Ciel, crashing into it with enough force to send them both to the floor.

     'Sebastian!' Ciel yelled, then something came skittering across the floor towards him. One of the rebars, mangled from the ceiling's collapse, as sharp as any knife.

     Sebastian took it in hand, looking over to meet Ciel's eye.

     'Don't look,' he said, then rose the rod into the air.

     _Don't look away,_ Ciel told himself, moving back towards Freckles and Soma. He covered each of their eyes with one hand, but kept his own eye open. _Don't look away from what you made him be._

     Despite Sebastian's lame shoulder, he found the strength to beat V1 into submission. The rod smashed down upon Its skull until Its fingers gave their last little twitch. Every time Sebastian rose his arm to strike again, Ciel's throat closed up that little bit more, a suffocating pressure sitting heavily on his chest. He took a deep breath in and held it for as long as he could, counting the seconds going by.

     By twenty, Sebastian dropped the rod. He looked over his shoulder, a splatter of V1's blood trickling down his cheek. For a long moment, he just stared at Ciel, face vacant. Then he smiled. It was a poorly crafted thing, begging to fall away, not even a shadow of the grin Ciel had come to know.

     Ciel's arms dropped away from Soma and Freckles, though they kept their eyes screwed shut for a while longer. Sebastian's arm was coated in blood, fresh and dark, and Ciel wondered if the bite mark he had left there all those months ago still lay beneath it.

     Ciel held out his hand, fingers quaking.

     After a beat, Sebastian moved towards him. He reached out, his bloodied hand hovering over Ciel's. He made no move to take it, just stared down at Ciel with that dreadful little smile. Daring him to make that final move.

     _Filthy._ A dot of blood dripped down onto Ciel's palm, a stark red against his pale skin. _Disgusting._ His skin crawled at the cooling wetness, at the thought of how slick Sebastian's hand would be. _Beastly._ If the scar Ciel gave him was there, it was lost beneath all that blood.

     Ciel drew in another breath, then grasped Sebastian's hand. He knotted them together, that awful slide between their fingers making Ciel's heart pound too hard, too fast.

     Fingers entwined, they made for the exit.

 

\---

 

The snow was falling heavier, streaks of white cutting through the night sky. It should have been dark, no streetlights in miles, but the fire eating away at St. Victoria's lit the sky better than anything man-made could have dreamt of. There wasn't a window not lit with the flames, and it cast a warm glow across the gardens.

     The survivors stood, watching their prison burn.

     Dagger clung to Beast, his head cradled against her chest, his shoulders heaving. Supported against her leg was Joker, staring blearily up at the building, not really seeing it at all. Tanaka lay unconscious at his side, though his eyelids were beginning to twitch. Beside him was Wendy, Agni bent over her, knotting the torn sleeve of his nightshirt around her throat.

     Soma choked back a sob at the sight of him. Without a word, he sprinted across the frozen grass, throwing himself against Agni as the man rose to meet him.

     Freckles squeezed Ciel's shoulder then followed after him, a dazed walk at first, then breaking into a run as Beast and Dagger called her name. Even Joker seemed to come back to himself then, struggling to sit up.

     Snake stood off to the side, neither with the group or apart from it. He stared up at the building, eyes vacant. It was Dagger who approached him, face stained with tears. Ciel was too far away to hear what he said, but whatever it was, it coaxed Snake to follow him. With a degree of hesitance, he joined the group, pulled down into a one-armed hug by Joker.

     'Jumbo and Drocell,' Ciel murmured, unable to find their faces among the gathering.

     'I'd have expected more,' Sebastian replied, adding the Ward V patient's to the tally, 'I doubt anyone is getting out of there now.'

     A faint crashing sound. Some bricks from up high on the wall began to crumble away.

     'Where did you go that night?' Sebastian asked, 'How did the fire even start?'

     'I'll tell you later.' Ciel blinked, then a slow smile began to form on his lips. 'Later.'

     Sebastian looked up as a window shattered, the flames climbing higher.

     'Mm. Later then.'

     Their hands were still entwined, the blood drying on their fingers. Sebastian waited for Ciel to pull away, but he didn't.


	34. Epilogue

The hall was decorated with paper snowflakes and garlands of fairy lights. Each table had a centrepiece of orchids, white and pink, surrounded by shining silver leaves. The plates were being taken away and the tables pushed to the sides to make more room for the dance floor. The hall was swarming with people and they swayed to the music, some in clusters, some in pairs, dressed in all their finery.

     Ciel tugged at his tie, unused to having something sitting so close to his throat. A hand slapped his away, adjusted the tie once more.

     'Stop messing with it, it took me long enough to get it done in the first place,' Sebastian chided. While Ciel wore an ill-fitting suit, he was dressed down in jeans and a jumper. A foam sling pinned his right arm down to his chest, thick bandages knotted around his shoulder. The wound was already beginning to itch, in the early stages of healing, but he'd never have full use of the arm again. Too much damage to the nerves, the Doctors had said.

     'I don't see why I had to wear this,' Ciel snapped, eyeing his reflection in the glass panes of the door. It was a cheap rental tux, meant for someone broader in the shoulders, and he thought he looked like a child playing dress up. Having to roll up the pant legs and seeing Sebastian's smirk had been the final nail in the coffin of his dignity. 'I'm not planning on staying long. Anything would have done.'

     'You're gate-crashing,' Sebastian pointed out, leaning against the pillar of the balcony, 'The least you can do is not look like a pile of rags.'

     True enough, it was a grand sort of place, as expected of the Midfords. Anywhere that required a ten minute drive from the front gates necessitated a bit more than a cheap tracksuit from Primark.

     Ciel pulled at the shirt collar, taking a deep breath.

     'I won't be long.'

     'I'll be waiting here.'

     He ducked through the balcony doors.

     There were a few familiar faces among the guests, though Ciel couldn't put a name to more than a quarter of them. Between the years that had passed and his childhood indifference to them, they were all as good as strangers now, bar a couple.

     He spotted her parents first. Alexis and Francis Midford, hardly touched by the years. Just the sight of his Aunt made Ciel's stomach clench, that childish intimidation he had always felt surging back full force. He lowered his head, as though that would hide him should they look his way, and searched the crowd for another face.

     It wasn't hard to find her, star of the show that day. He stopped, watching from across the hall as she spoke to her brother. Her hands waved animatedly, a beaming grin on her face.

     In her letter, she had spoken about her fantasies of the day. Unlike her, Ciel had never imagined what their wedding day may have looked like. He had been too young, his attention span too short to pay much mind to their parent's jokes. But if he had imagined it, that's what she would have looked like. The white dress, her blonde curls half pinned up and half left down, the emerald jewellery bringing out her eyes. All of it.

     Ciel tugged at the tie again, his throat too tight. A deep inhale, _two, three, four,_ then a slow exhale. What sort of questions would she ask? Would she even want to see him after all these years? What if she called her parents over, her husband, or god forbid, her brother? Ciel didn't want to deal with any of them, wasn't sure he _could._

     With an annoyed groan, Ciel pulled the tie undone, stuffing it into his pants pocket. Enough thinking. He forced himself to walk on, one foot in front of the other, across the hall.

     Edward spotted Ciel first. It took a minute for recognition to dawn, then he spluttered, gesturing over. By the time Ciel reached them, Lizzie had turned around.

     'What the hell are you -- They let you out?' Edward demanded, eyes wide. He moved to stand between Ciel and Lizzie, but she put a hand on his chest, giving him pause.

     'Sorry to come uninvited,' Ciel said, hoping it didn't sound as awkward to her as it did to him. A silence followed, Lizzie just staring at him blankly, that was even more awkward. '... I got your letter.'

     Edward looked between them, giving Lizzie's wrist a reassuring squeeze. The glare he sent Ciel was a lot less fiery than it had been when they were children, more confused than anything else now.

     Lizzie looked down at Ciel's feet.

     'Are they comfortable?'

     It was an odd choice of question for their first reunion in almost eight years, but Ciel had half an idea just where the question was going. He answered with a poorly masked grimace.

     'About as comfortable as this conversation.'

     Lizzie finally smiled, her dimples as prominent as Ciel remembered. She held out her hand and he took it, leading her to the dance floor. He manoeuvred them so they were out of sight of the balcony. The last thing he needed was Sebastian being witness to this.

     'Do you remember the steps?'

     'No.'

     'Don't worry if you step on my feet a little bit.'

     'Not sure I could find your feet through all that fabric.'

     Lizzie led, her arm curled around his waist, his on her shoulder, and their hands joined together. Step, one, two. Step, one, two. It was a good few beats before he accidentally trod on her toes, and she was kind enough to only wince a little.

     'What happened to your eye?'

     It wasn't the first question Ciel had expected her to ask, but it was a gentle start, at least.

     'One of the other patients didn't warm to me right away,' he answered honestly, 'He felt bad about it later, though.'

     'That's awful.' Lizzie stared at the eyepatch, horrified. Ciel had almost forgotten what a normal reaction was like. If just that bothered her enough to make her go pale, he couldn't imagine ever telling her what the staff had been like. 'Why didn't they stop him? Something like that shouldn't have been able to happen!'

     'No, it shouldn't.' Ciel shrugged, looking down at their feet. Around them, others danced the same waltz, more than a few curious glances shot their way as they wondered who the unfamiliar man with the bride was. 'Was your bouquet orchids, like you wanted?'

     Her hand tightened around his, but she allowed the subject to be changed, not pressing any further. He was grateful for that. The ongoing police enquiry was hardly as sensitive.

     'Yes. Ann put in a good word with the florist from her wedding.' Lizzie's eyes brightened. 'Did she tell you yet?'

     'About the baby?' Ciel nodded, smiling faintly. 'She must be quite far along now, right? Does she know the due date?'

     'Sometime in mid-February, I think! Arthur's already thought of a dozen names. There was a silly one that began with M that Ann vetoed right away.'

     The song changed. Something slower took its place and the dancers slowed too. Lizzie placed her arms around Ciel's neck. She was taller than him still, would have been even without her heels. He put his hands on her waist, mimicking her slow sway.

     'You should show me the other letters one day,' Ciel said quietly, making her have to lean down to hear, 'I'll fake enthusiasm about your friends I don't know and all the things you don't remember writing about.'

     Lizzie's answering smile was a dazzling thing.

     'And I'll pretend to believe that enthusiasm. I meant what I said, you know. About wanting to know you, whoever you are now.'

     Ciel looked off to the side. A dark-haired man was watching them, head cocked to the side. His tux was finer than those around him, his tie matching the colour of Lizzie's jewellery. He didn't approach them, but he met Ciel's eye curiously.

     'I'm not sure you'll like the man I've become,' Ciel said, turning back to Lizzie, 'I'm not sure I like him very much.'

     Lizzie just shrugged, an imitation of Ciel's earlier apathetic response.

     'That's for me to decide, don't you think?'

     The song ended. They pulled away from each other, both wearing a similar kind of half smile. They kept hold of one another's hands for a moment, palms warm.

     'Are you happy, Lizzie?' Ciel asked.

     There was no hesitation.

     'Yeah, I am.' She squeezed his hand. 'Can you be?'

     Instinctively, Ciel looked over to the balcony doors, to the figure silhouetted through the glass.

     'I think I could be,' he replied, 'In a sense of the word.'

     They let go of each other. Lizzie looked over Ciel's shoulder, eyes tracking someone across the room. She moved to stand behind him, blocking him from view.

     'Ann's here. Don't suppose you'll say hello?'

     More questions, more answers, the inevitable offer of a home she'd make. Her husband and her baby to come. Happy families. Ciel's throat felt tight again, even though the tie was still in his pocket.

     'Another time,' he said, then after a beat, 'Maybe February.'

     'I'll introduce you to Leo then.' Of all the things to do, she stuck out her fist, her little finger extended. Ciel sighed, pulling a face, but that just made her grin all the more. 'Promise!'

     Every inch unwilling, Ciel hooked his own little finger around hers, the pinkie promise made.

     'February?'

     'February.'

 

\---

 

'You're _verrry_ underdressed, Michaelis.'

     Sebastian didn't even jump. Not that he was expecting that voice to chirp far too close to his ear, but it wasn't entirely _un_ expected either. He'd had a feeling the car was being followed, but with Ciel proving to be quite an antsy driver, he hadn't thought it wise to mention it. No doubt they'd have ended up wrapped around a tree.

     'Gate-crashers don't get a plus one,' Sebastian replied, turning his head to face the newcomers, 'And I didn't much fancy trying to get this arm into a suit.'

     Grey and Phipps were very much dressed for the occasion. Perhaps a little overdressed. Both of them wore white suits, though Phipps' was a little more conservative than Grey's. No visible weapons that Sebastian could make out, unless Grey planned to stab him with a skewer from one of the hors d'oeuvres he'd swiped. Sebastian wouldn't rule out the possibility.

     'Excuses, excuses. How is the arm, by the way? Sounded like a nasty scratch.'

     Grey hopped up to sit on the low stone wall, while Phipps leaned against it, staring intently at Sebastian's uninjured arm.

     'You know there's a hole in your jumper, don't you?' Phipps observed, frowning.

     'Is there?' Sebastian didn't even look down to try and find it. 'How terrible.'

     'Now, now! Enough chatter. We can't hang about. John's waiting out front with the car, and if we leave him too long, he'll mess around with the radio stations. I'm _not_ listening to Juice FM again.' Grey finished sucking a cocktail stick clean then flicked it away into the gardens below. He nudged Phipps with his foot. 'Give it to him, he's with the guy anyway.'

     'I'd rather give it to the addressee directly,' Phipps objected, but he pulled the envelope out of his jacket's inner pocket regardless, 'Make sure you give it to Phantomhive.'

     It was a plain white envelope with _C. Phantomhive_ inked neatly upon the front. Nothing else embellished it, no stamp or return address. Sebastian took it gingerly, waiting for the other foot to drop.

     It didn't. Letter delivered, Phipps and Grey moved to leave, not even glancing back at Sebastian.

     'That's it?' Sebastian couldn't help but ask, 'No ominous warnings. No threats. No bodily harm. Just a letter?'

     Grey spun around on one heel to face Sebastian again.

     'When have we _ever_ harmed someone?' he asked, hand pressed to his chest in mock offense, 'I can personally attest to never raising a hand against anyone, except in self-defence. You, Phipps?'

     'My hands are clean,' he replied easily, 'John's too. We can't speak for the other members of staff, but we performed our roles as instructed, causing no harm to anyone.'

     Sebastian looked down at the letter, the feel of the expensive paper beneath his fingertips.

     'And what exactly was your role?'

     Phipps continued to leave as though Sebastian hadn't spoke, but Grey walked backwards, a wicked grin twisting his mouth.

     'We were observers, Michaelis.'

     And then they were gone. There was a sense of finality in seeing them disappear around the corner, in seeing them out of the walls and uniform of St. Victoria's. It took every ounce of self-control he still possessed for Sebastian not to follow after them and make certain that they had driven away. Even more to not tear the envelope open and read the letter.

     It was another five minutes before Ciel returned, looking less tired than Sebastian had ever seen him. He stared at the letter he was given, finger running along the envelope's seam, but rather than open it, he just stuck it in his pocket.

     'There's a couple more stops we need to make,' Ciel said, walking down the steps, Sebastian at his side, 'But first, I'm getting out of this ridiculous suit.'

 

\---

 

It was a tricolour Volkswagon Beetle, not quite the oldest model, but far from new. It wasn't tricolour by design, but as it had passed through numerous owners and been involved in numerous accidents, it had become the Frankenstein's monster of cars. The bonnet was blue, the sides red and the boot was yellow. Even the upholstery didn't match. The front seats were brown leather, the back seats white. At least the front seats had seat belts to boast of, though Sebastian had to hold his in place to stop it snapping back against the side of the car.

     It proved its worth when Ciel misjudged how much pressure he was putting on the accelerator and the Beetle's blue bonnet crashed right into a tent pole.

     'Whose bright idea was it for the person with _one eye_ to drive?!'

     'I made the mistake of thinking you would keep that eye _open.'_

     'That thing came out of nowhere.'

     'Ciel, we drove across a flat field for a good five minutes. It hardly jumped out at you.'

     The tent the car had collided with was still standing, though at somewhat of an angle now. It was about as patchwork as the car itself. Different coloured fabrics all crudely stitched together, towering above them and billowing in the strong Winter wind.

     'Ciiiiiiiel!'

     That was all the warning Ciel got before he was crashed into, arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders and a greasy face pressed against his.

     'What _is_ that? You're getting it all over me,' Ciel groused, struggling in Soma's hold. Purple face paint was rubbing off on Ciel's cheek, Soma's elaborate swirls all smudged. 'Gerroff.'

     Soma laughed, letting go.

     'How you feeling?' It was said with a smile, but the worry in Soma's eyes was plain to see. He and Freckles had gotten out relatively scot-free. Ciel and Sebastian, not quite so lucky. 'You got your inhaler on you?'

     Ciel patted his pants pocket, the comforting weight of the bulge there.

     'And your arm getting on alright?' Soma asked, peering around from behind Ciel. Sebastian just smiled politely, tapping the sling as though that were an answer by itself. Soma didn't press further. He couldn't quite look Sebastian in the eye anymore.

     Soma led them away from the large tent towards a trio of caravans across the field. Clothes lines were strung between each other, colourful dresses and frilled shirts left out to dry. The canopies of each caravan clustered together, and beneath their shade, a mishmash of outdoor chairs were left. It didn't resemble the arrangement of the leisure room, as intentionally different as could be.

     'Hey, Smile! Black! Wonderin' when you'd show your faces,' Dagger greeted cheerfully, jumping out of his deckchair to clap them both on the back. Sebastian just about managed to hide the wince.

     The others called out too. Beast must have done Soma's make-up as she was surrounded by face paint and the like, swiping a brush meticulously over Freckles' left eye. Soma pulled a chair up beside Agni, who shot them a smile while trying to untangle strands of fairy lights. Snake sat on the floor beside him, intent on unknotting the other end.

     'Is Joker about?' Ciel asked when all the _hellos_ and _how are yous_ had been exchanged. He'd been asked four times how his chest was getting on in the colder weather, if his head was healing up alright, and he'd ran out of ways to respond. He wasn't ungrateful for the concern, but attempting to reciprocate it just got him flustered.

     'He's inside, just over there,' Freckles replied, inclining her head towards the caravan at Ciel's back. He nodded his thanks, leaving Sebastian with the others to head inside.

     Though they were small, the caravans were very homely. It looked like each could house three people, and their presence was etched into every fine detail. The caravan Ciel entered was without a doubt Freckles' and Beast's. He could see Freckles in the discarded sweet wrappers, Beast in the neatly hung outdoor clothes. Their first taste of luxury in years, but they approached it modestly.

     'That ain't a problem. Just so long as it's not a hospital, alright?' Joker's voice drifted back from the first room on the left, the door ajar. Ciel didn't bother knocking, just stepping inside.

     Joker and Tanaka sat in the corner, heads bowed together. In the bed lay Wendy, neck wrapped in bandages, an IV standing tall at her side. Her eyes were closed, but her chest rose and fell rhythmically.

     'Smile.' Joker's look wasn't entirely surprised. He rose from his seat, his right sleeve hanging empty. His colour was much better than the last time Ciel had seen him. He was recovering from the amputation well. 'Lookin' good. Black with you?'

     'He's outside. We won't be staying long, got another stop after this one.'

     Ciel glanced at Tanaka, who smiled placidly and gave a little nod.

     'I'll wait outside. It's good to see you well, Phantomhive.'

     Ciel didn't reply, waiting until the door had shut behind Tanaka before sitting in the seat he had vacated.

     'So. A circus.'

     Joker's grin was somewhat bashful. He sat back down, one leg folded under him. Beast had already gotten to his face, Ciel noticed, though the streak across his eye was teal rather than purple. It looked like an exaggerated teardrop.

     'Bit of a childhood dream of mine. Always fancied myself a clown. People seemed to agree,' he snickered, 'Should be fun, y'know? We'll start out here, find our footin', test out some acts. Then when we've got it down, we'll pick up sticks and get on the road.'

     Ciel smiled. He couldn't imagine Joker, or any of the others, standing still for the time being. Never mind in London, where their faces were known, the papers plying them with pity. They were already an attraction. Why not charge for it?

     'And Tanaka is funding all of this? Guilt certainly is lucrative,' Ciel said. The same offer had been extended to him during his stay at the hospital, the weeks following the fire. Though Ciel hadn't been present for Tanaka's declaration, Freckles filled him in on the details, and while Ciel didn't mistrust the old man, he certainly didn't trust him either. Ignorance was little excuse for the things that had been done to them. No assurances of stability would sway that.

     'You got that right. He's gonna be hands off for now, we said. A weekly visit is what we agreed. I don't dislike him,' Joker said, 'And I don't completely blame him. We'll see how things go. Maybe get him jugglin' for us in a coupla months, eh?'

     'You certainly won't be juggling anymore. What's your act going to be?'

     'I have other skills! Did you know I'm actually pretty flexible? I can lick my elbow. I could be the troupe's contortionist.'

     Ciel resisted the urge to ask for a demonstration.

     'I have always thought you were rather backwards.'

     Joker laughed, then pressed a hand over his mouth, looking to Wendy. The noise hadn't woken her. She didn't even stir.

     'How's she doing?' Ciel asked quietly, looking over his shoulder. She had always been small, but she looked even smaller amid the blankets. He'd never seen her with her hair down before, but it spilled across the pillow, free of its braid.

     'She's in a stable condition. She woke up last week, when she was still in the hospital. Freaked out so bad, they had to sedate her. None of us liked that. Tanaka got 'em to let us bring her here, on the condition that a carer comes by every day. Nice lady, called Paula. Could be worse.'

     Ciel nodded. He'd be lying if he claimed to have been overly worried, but Wendy had certainly been on his mind since finding out what had happened. Jumbo and Drocell's absences too. _Could be worse,_ definitely an accurate assessment, but things could have been much better too.

     'You could stay, y'know.' It took Ciel a moment to register that Joker was still talking to him, it was said so quietly, his eyes fixed on Wendy. 'You don't have to perform or nothin'. Can't imagine you on a tightrope. Just... do your bit behind the scenes, I dunno, book keepin' or somethin' like that. It... feels weird for you not to be with us. You're one of us.'

     'I _am_ one of you,' Ciel replied, leaning forward in his seat, 'Whether I'm here or not.'

     Joker laughed, but it was quiet now, more an exhale than anything else. He held out his hand between them, and after a beat, Ciel took it. A firm handshake.

     'True enough. Just try to remember you've always got a place with us.'

     Ciel let go first.

     'I'll bear that in mind.'

     'Don't be a stranger, Smile.'

 

\---

 

They'd been driving for about three hours. Sebastian fell asleep as the coast rushed by the window, at least half confident that Ciel could manage the motorway without needing any instructions, and when he next opened his eyes, they were on a country lane lined with trees. The sky was dark, but that was little indication of the time in mid-Winter.

     'Just a little after four,' Ciel said quietly, before Sebastian had a chance to ask, 'We're almost there. Saw a sign a bit back.'

     Almost _where_ , Sebastian hadn't the faintest idea. The wedding reception hadn't been too much of a surprise, and he'd assumed they'd visit the others at some point, but Ciel was being awfully tight-lipped about their final destination. They were far away from London by now, at least that much was certain.

     'Did you stop for petrol?' Sebastian looked over at the gage. It was poised around the middle. Wherever they were going better have a station they could fill up at.

     'We'll get some on the way back.' Ciel shrugged, adjusting his hands on the wheel. 'You can ask those questions now, if you want.'

     Sebastian rose an eyebrow, 'Questions?'

     'It's _later_ now, isn't it?'

     Sebastian frowned, puzzled for a moment, before catching on. He leaned back, getting more comfortable in his seat. He could see his breath a bit, the air in the car frigid, so reached out to fiddle with the little fans on the dashboard.

     'I came to get you like we planned,' he began, 'But when I came to the ward, the lights in the hall went out. Then when I tried my keycard, I couldn't open the ward door. The next day, Tanaka let slip that you'd gone missing. So, what's the story?'

     Sebastian already knew about Noah Kelvin lurking in the loft like some Bronte style ghoul, but he knew about it from the police and newspaper reports, not from Ciel himself. As far as Sebastian was concerned, if it wasn't told to him by Ciel then the information was void.

     'So it was the lights for you too, huh?' Ciel shook his head, lip curling. 'I was getting impatient waiting for you. You were taking your time showing up --'

     'I was perfectly punctual. Early, if anything,' Sebastian objected mildly, 'But go on.'

     Ciel shot him an annoyed look.

     ' _Anyway,_ you were late. When the door finally opened, it obviously wasn't you. Wasn't anybody. No one was there. But the lights in the corridor were on, so I went to check it out. My bedroom door locked behind me.'

     'I could have predicted that would happen.'

     'Yes, Sebastian. If only you'd been there. You know, like we planned you would. I'm sure everything would have turned out very differently.'

     'For one, _I_ wouldn't have burned the whole place down.'

     'That was an accident!' Ciel snapped. Sebastian gave him a nudge so he'd keep his eye on the road. He had a bad enough track record of ramming into things even when he was watching where he was going. 'But I'll get to that. Anyway, I was locked out of my room and then the lights in the corridor started going out. One by one, clearly intentional. So I followed them. Not the wisest move I've ever made, I admit, but it seemed a good idea at the time.'

     'I'm sure.'

     'You've heard the rest from the police reports, right?'

     'I've heard what they have to say. I'd rather hear it from you.'

     Ciel nodded, an approving look in his eye. If he'd been fishing for a particular answer there, Sebastian was sure he'd given the right one.

     So Ciel told him. From following the trail of lights, to the unknown loft of the institute, to the fake Third Chairman. He told him the things he hadn't told the police or the other patients, like how he'd known Kelvin from before the institute, and most importantly, about the cameras recording everything that transpired within St. Victoria's walls.

     'So... did you start the fire to destroy the evidence?' Sebastian asked, puzzled. Everything else he understood, but destroying the evidence was only hindering their own side in the ongoing investigation.

     Ciel went quiet at the question. At first, Sebastian thought he was just considering his words, but when he looked over, he saw Ciel's lips were pursed and his cheeks were coloured.

     '... You did say it was an accident. How do you accidentally burn down a building?' Sebastian smirked.

     'Look, I didn't realize the curtains were so close to the wiring. With all that water, who would guess a fire would start?!' Ciel exclaimed, flustered.

     So Ciel told him about Angela and Ash, and the end they had met. Of all the reactions, he hadn't expected laughter. Hysterical at that.

     'Oh, I'm so glad we can laugh at each other's _murders_ now,' Ciel said deadpan, shaking his head, 'I'm so happy we've reached that point, Sebastian.'

     'You _electrocuted_ them, both of them! Who even thinks of that? You had a pipe.' Sebastian wiped his eyes, shining with mirth. 'Points for showmanship,  but good lord, you could have gone about that easier.'

     'Clearly _I'm_ in the wrong for not wanting to bludgeon people to death.'

     'I think we're both going to have to hold back on the moral judgements from now on, Ciel. Neither of us really has a leg to stand on,' Sebastian pointed out, laughter dying down. Though the words were sobering, they didn't weigh on him as they should have, as they would have done before.

     He scrutinized Ciel's expression to see if they weighed on him. His fingers clenched the steering wheel a little tighter, but apart from that, there was little change. Just acceptance of the fact.

     'You're not wrong,' Ciel said after a moment, staring ahead at the dark road, 'We're almost there.'

     The Beetle indicated left and turned onto a dirt road that wound between the oaks. The trees were so thick that it wasn't until they pulled up at the mouth of the forest that Sebastian saw the town.

     It was an idyllic little place, with birch wood houses, greenery on every corner, a tall clock tower at its centre. The sort of place that would be found on postcard photographs. An iron and flower arch stood at its entrance, _Welcome To Renbon_ carved into a hanging sign.

     They climbed out of the car, eyeing the empty streets ahead. Lights were on in the houses, but no one walked the lanes, no cars on the roads, no people to be seen at all. Only the wind howled down the streets.

     'They've fixed it up a lot in eight years,' Ciel muttered, more to himself than to Sebastian, then rose his voice to say, 'We lived at the other end of the town. Most of these houses are new, must've been built after the fire.'

     'Another fire?'

     Ciel smirked, turning away from the town to face the forest.

     'People are going to start labelling me a pyromaniac at this rate.'

     Ciel walked off towards the trees and Sebastian followed, though he couldn't help looking over his shoulder a few times. If he really squinted, he could make out the line where the new town ended and the old town began, the buildings there still blackened.

     The snow had fallen heavier down North. London had been hit hard at first, but it had soon turned to sleet, and when they had left that morning, there was little more than patches. In Renbon's forest, the ground was still blanketed thickly. The cold bled through Sebastian's shoes, his toes going numb after the first ten minutes of walking.

     Ciel didn't complain about the cold, but he rubbed his chest with a frown every now and then, taking slower, deeper breaths. Sebastian noticed his hand constantly straying to the inhaler in his pocket and wondered if it was just from the cold or because of where they were, Renbon stealing Ciel's breath from him.

     It took about twenty minutes to reach the end of the trees. A clearing opened up before them, a dilapidated little play area at its centre. A rusted slide, swings missing their seat or thrown over the top of the bar, a roundabout lurching off its axis. A health and safety nightmare.

     The snow around the park was undisturbed. Not a single child's footprint broke the swathe of white. Sebastian had never seen a play area without a single child in it before, even when the weather was bad, and it had a ghostly quality. The cold pricked at the nape of his neck.

     'My parents moved to Renbon when they found out they were having me. They were both very young, and their families disapproved. Told them they didn't have the stability or money, or so I heard from my Aunt. She was the one who found them a house here. I suppose that's why she feels so responsible for me, has kept visiting me all these years. I've never blamed her, but I don't suppose that matters when she blames herself.'

     Sebastian jumped when Ciel began to speak. He hadn't said a word the whole walk through the forest, and in the quiet of the clearing, his voice seemed louder than it was. He walked through the creaky gate, wandering across the play area to the swings. There was one that still had its seat, and he lowered himself onto it carefully, looking up at its structure as it groaned. The swing held, and he kicked his feet absently, disturbing the snow.

     Sebastian didn't risk it, standing beside the swing set.

     'You don't have to tell me this,' he said, watching Ciel sway slowly on the swing, 'I don't need to know everything.'

     'I don't _have_ to, no. But I will. You deserve to have all the information, however irrelevant it is now.'

     They watched each other, equally as guarded. A part of Sebastian didn't _want_ to know. It would be the final nail in the coffin, the last and strongest of the chains binding Sebastian to Ciel.

     Ciel was offering it, his patient quiet allowing Sebastian to chance to refuse, to take the step back and keep the small distance between them. And Sebastian considered refusing. Whatever would come next, he couldn't imagine a life of safety for either of them, not with the way they were now, the things they had done.

     But he couldn't imagine tomorrow without Ciel, either. He knew what Sebastian had done, who he had become. He felt the responsibility of that and had refused to look away from the reality. No, this information, this last part of himself that Ciel was offering, it wasn't what would bind them. They had been bound since the moment Sebastian had taken Ciel off of the ward to save Joker, when Ciel had tied their wrists together with a torn strip of his shirt.

     Sebastian stepped closer, leaning his hip against the frame of the swings, then nodded.

     Ciel didn't smile, but the ice that had entered his eye began to thaw.

     'Renbon was a haven for ten years. There was no crime to speak of, not so much as a child stealing sweets from the corner shop. Nobody wanted for anything. Prices were low, production was high. It was an agricultural village, so they supplied to all the neighbouring towns. The community was very tight-knit. Everybody knew each other. Father used to say you could leave the front of your house off and know that nobody would steal from you. And it was true. They loved it here, my parents, and so did I. Their families saw they'd been wrong, they all made up, but my parents didn't want to leave here. It was just so perfect.'

     Ciel spoke with a detached calm, as though narrating someone else's life. Perhaps that's how he saw it, Sebastian mused, like his pre-St. Victoria's self was someone he used to know. An old acquaintance and nothing more. Maybe it made it easier.

     'Too perfect?' Sebastian suggested when Ciel seemed unsure how to continue. His brows were furrowed and he was rubbing his chest again. 'What changed after the tenth year?'

     Ciel nodded, latching onto the questions to continue.

     'Far too perfect. People aren't that kind, that generous, without getting something in return. I didn't know it back then. Growing up in that sort of environment, it made me naive. I'd believe whatever I was told, trust everyone I met, do as I was asked. It was the way of the place. Everything was about community. You existed as part of a unit, as part of Renbon.'

     'Sounds like a cult,' Sebastian interjected, wrinkling his nose.

     'It _was_ a cult,' Ciel agreed, 'But I didn't know that yet. My parents were only just beginning to suspect it during the tenth year too. Things changed in the tenth year. The villagers began to get restless. Sales plummeted. There was a flood that ruined the vegetation. And then the mayor committed suicide.'

     'Where was Kelvin in all of this?' Sebastian asked, 'He was a family friend, you said?'

     'Well, _friend._ He thought so. He was our neighbour. I don't know what their relationship was before I was born, but as I remember it, Mother didn't like him. The only time I remember seeing her uncomfortable was when he was around. It was instinct, I suppose. He didn't _do_ anything, but she didn't trust him. Father grew to be the same. But by that point, he'd already insinuated himself into our lives. You didn't stop associating with someone at Renbon. It just wasn't done. Everybody got along, and I see now that wasn't so much a fact as it was a rule.'

     'This is all a bit Orwellian. Was there a council of elders in this village too?'

     It lacked the mocking bite the words suggested. Sebastian just didn't like the distant haze washing over Ciel's face, the wheeze entering his words. A bit of levity seemed needed, but he also nudged Ciel's pocket with his foot.

     Ciel pulled the inhaler out, taking a suck then holding his breath. His fingers tapped against his leg, counting the seconds until he could exhale. A few more times, and then he was ready to continue.

     'Can't exactly give them points for originality,' Ciel agreed, 'Dystopias masquerading as utopias have been done to hell and back. But that's how it was. It wasn't like there was a group of people enforcing the way of life. It was just... learned. Most of the people in Renbon had been born and raised there. They didn't know any different. And my parents had been in a bad way, struggling to find a place to start their life together, so when they found Renbon, they did whatever they could to fit in too. It wasn't harmful, that way of life, not until the tenth year. And by then, Renbon was their home. They both had jobs, friends, a mortgage. The bad came so gradually, by the time they recognized it for what it was, it was too late.'

     'And what was the bad? What happened in the tenth year?'

     Ciel drew on the inhaler again, then put it back in his pocket. He rocked on the swing gently, staring out at the forest.

     'If you found it cliché so far, you'll roll your eyes at the next part,' he said, attempting a wry smile. It didn't quite succeed. 'You called them a cult. That's... accurate. Very accurate. Not in the sense that they worshipped a specific deity. It wasn't really religious in nature. Rather, they worshipped an _idea._ The idea of community. The greater good. That everyone had to work together to maintain the happiness they had in Renbon. And for that goal, sometimes a sacrifice had to be made. Not to appease any god, but for nature itself.'

     Sebastian looked at the ground, pulling at the foam of his sling. He had half an idea what was coming next, but he didn't interrupt this time. Ciel wasn't struggling with what to say anymore.

     'I wasn't chosen for any grand reason, despite what Kelvin seemed to believe. It was simply because our family was the newest to Renbon, and they decided it was our opportunity to pay our dues. To thank the community for the happiness they had given us so far. They were very polite about it, letting my parents know a few days in advance.' Ciel snorted derisively. 'I don't remember very clearly what happened between the notice and _that day_ , but they must have been preparing. They withdrew all their money from the bank, bought a cheap second-hand car, got in touch with the Midfords, friends of the family, to arrange staying with them for a time. All that arranging, but it fell apart when Kelvin found out what they were doing.'

     'If Kelvin... cared for three of you, in a sense of the word, then why did he interfere?' Sebastian asked when a pause developed, 'Why didn't he let the three of you escape?'

     'Because he was as brainwashed by the community as everybody else. He saw my being chosen as an honour. And when my parents were going to run away, in his eyes, they were robbing me of that honour.' Ciel shrugged, kicking up the snow with more force. 'In short, he was a lunatic. And that's coming from me.'

     Sebastian snorted softly.

     'So he told the others about their plan. What then?'

     'Then it was the night it was going to happen. I remember Mother waking me up. She had me put my coat on over my pyjamas, and I remember thinking how strange that was, that we were going out and I wasn't even properly dressed. Father carried me out the door, and they made for the forest. I think they must have had the car waiting on the road. They couldn't have it _in_ the town, because people would have noticed. Nobody really owned a car except for the farmers. Anyway, we went through the wood. We weren't walking a few minutes before the voices came.'

     Ciel stood up from the swing, blowing on his chapped hands. Sebastian placed his good hand over Ciel's, rubbing some warmth into them.

     'I don't really remember what happened then. Mother left first. I still don't know whether she meant to reason with them or just stall them. Either way, she ran back, and Father kept going with me. When they began to catch up, Mother wasn't with them, and Father put me down. He... He gave me his ring, and told me to wait for them in the park. That if anyone else came, I was to run away. I didn't understand what was going on, where she'd gone, where he was going, why everything had suddenly gotten so frightening. It was snowing and it was cold and I waited in this park until I couldn't breathe from the chill and passed out. When I woke up, I was back in Renbon, in the town hall.'

     Sebastian's hand stilled over Ciel's. It stopped rubbing and just squeezed. He stepped closer to Ciel, blocking him from the strong wind blowing through.

     Ciel was still speaking with that blank voice, but he reached for the inhaler again. A nerve was jumping in his jaw.

     'I won't go into detail. They hurt me. They wore masks, but I knew them all. I'd grown up with them. One of them was a teacher from the school. He was the one with the knife. I kept asking where my parents were but they wouldn't speak to me. Even when I screamed, they wouldn't answer. The fire wasn't on purpose, but I can't say I'm sorry. I saw the knife coming down and I struggled, knocked over one of the candle holders, and the place just went up.'

     Ciel breathed in deeply through his nose, leaning his forehead against Sebastian's chest. Sebastian wasn't sure if his shaking was just from the cold. He placed his good arm around Ciel's shoulders, uncertain whether the touch was welcome, whether it was the right thing to do. Ciel didn't lean into it, but he didn't move away either.

     'I got out. They didn't. And I'm not sorry.'

     'I lost the ring,' Sebastian cut in. Why then, he didn't know, but he suddenly needed to say it. 'Faustus stole it, and even when I could have picked it up, I got distracted by the siren. I'm sorr --'

     'Don't apologize to me. And I won't apologize to you.' Ciel straightened up, meeting Sebastian's eyes. 'I waited in this park until I knew they weren't coming and then I waited even longer. And then I was in St. Victoria's and I still had that ring and I was still waiting for them. I knew they were dead and I was _still_ waiting. I miss them. I love them. But I'm done waiting.'

     Sebastian could see it was true. For the entire time he had known Ciel, there had always been a shadow about him. A sense of being held in the air, never quite stable, never quite grounded, something just beyond his reach. He compensated for that something by attaining as much control as his situation allowed. A sway over the staff, just enough of a tie with the other patients while still being somehow above the fray, the composure he was so desperate to maintain. But still something was missing, and it haunted him.

     But with that declaration, there was a peace in Ciel that had never been there before. The ghosts of his parents, of Renbon, was lifted from his shoulders after eight years.

     Ciel breathed deeply, slipping the inhaler back into his pocket. As he did, his hand brushed against something else, and he pulled it free.

     Ciel tore the envelope open, tugging out the folded paper inside. Sebastian edged closer and they read it together, eyes scanning over the letter intently.

    

_Dear Ciel,_

_The only way to begin this is with a most sincere apology, in the full knowledge that this will mean little to you and your fellow patients, and do nothing to alleviate the suffering you have all gone through during your time at the St. Victoria's facility. Nonetheless, I offer this apology from the bottom of my heart._

_The purpose of this letter is not to appease my own guilt. I will carry this deserved guilt with me, as the least I can do. Instead, I write to you and your fellow patients with the purpose of explaining my part in what you have all experienced._

_In 2010, rumours began to spread of malpractice in one of the privately owned facilities within London. Through some research, my office discovered that the Chairman of this facility, Mr. Tanaka, was no longer the sole shareholder. In his illness, he had appointed another Chairman. This man, who refers to himself as Undertaker, had been on my office's radar for some time. Although never directly responsible, strange occurrences surrounded his funeral home. Disappearances, reports of disturbances in the night, and such. So when I discovered he had become involved in the running of a home for vulnerable children, you can understand I was greatly concerned. Even moreso when rumours of malpractice began shortly after._

_However, as St. Victoria's was a privately owned and run institution, my governmental position had little power to investigate. I confess, self-righteousness drove me from here, Ciel, moreso than my concern for you and your fellow children. If I had put the wellbeing of you all first, perhaps things could have turned out very differently. Hindsight is very unkind, so it does not do to dwell on such things. I acknowledge my mistake, and seek no forgiveness._

_My opportunity came when a third Chairman was hired within St. Victoria's. His name was a red light due to his association with the reports on Renbon, and upon closer research, I knew him to be a weak-willed man. It was the perfect chance. It took little to sway him, and before long, I had taken his place as the third Chairman. In mind, though not in presence._

_Now, in this position, I certainly could have made my move. I won't deny this. What you must understand is that killing a single wasp is meaningless if the nest still exists. More will come, more will spread, rendering the first kill fruitless. I could have shut down St. Victoria's with the evidence I had recorded with the cameras, but it wasn't the evidence I needed in order to finally corner Undertaker. Although I knew of the existence of the basement experiments, no cameras were placed there, and as such, he would get away with his inhumane acts once more. Even stationing my associates within the facility - Phipps, Grey and Brown - did little to assist in this. Undertaker must have suspected my involvement as they were never allowed close to the basement._

_Do you see, Ciel? Do you understand why I had to wait? Alois Trancy's passing was certainly a tragedy, but it was also a blessing in disguise. I was never meant to be involved with St. Victoria's, and as such, could not raise an alarm myself. But Mr. Tanaka himself beginning a police investigation was the most opportune turn of events I could have hoped for. If only the morning had come peacefully, everything would have come together neatly._

_The fire destroyed all of the evidence, and not just that, but more patients were lost. I am heartbroken, Ciel. Though my intentions were good, I could have done more to protect you children. I should have prioritized your safety. I didn't, and now more patients have been lost than was necessary, and Undertaker has escaped without a scrap of evidence._

_As I have said, I expect no forgiveness, and wouldn't dare ask for such. However, I shall continue to pursue Undertaker until he is brought to justice for the wrongs he has committed. If this means I must follow him to the underbelly of London, then I shall do just that. Rest sure in the knowledge that St. Victoria's is an anomaly that shall never be allowed to exist again, and that all guilty parties will be brought to justice for what they have done to you children._

_With deepest remorse,_

_V._

The paper had no indication of its sender. There was no letterhead, no return address, not even a postal mark. Of course not, as it had been delivered by the sender's assistants personally.

     'Do you think Joker and the others have gotten one?' Ciel asked, scanning over the letter a third time. His heart was beating quick in his chest, his palms damp despite the cold.

     'It's likely,' Sebastian replied, but he didn't sound certain, 'If they did, they must have gotten it after we saw them. They would have mentioned it, surely.'

     'V.' Ciel's thumb brushed over the last line of the letter. 'Who is V?'

     'I have no idea. A government worker of some sort, by the sounds of it. They didn't sign their last name.'

     Sebastian looked away from the letter. He wasn't nearly as surprised as he should have been to find that Ciel was beginning to grin. There was a light in his eye that he hadn't seen in months, the same sort of glow from when Sebastian actually put up half a challenge when they played chess.

     It was infectious. Sebastian found his own lips curling upwards, the thrill of a mystery blossoming in his chest.

     'What do you want to do?' he asked, already knowing the answer.

     Ciel folded up the letter, putting it back in his pocket. He began to walk towards the park gate, Sebastian at his side. He didn't look back towards the play area, to the place he had begun his years long wait. He didn't feel the need to anymore. There was something new, something interesting, stealing his attention from the past.

     He looked up at Sebastian with a grin as they made their way back to the car.

     'I want to find V.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap! Thanks for reading!


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